


Consequences

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-16 19:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11835180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Haldir accidentally learns of a secret and the consequences of it must be dealt with. [495 Fourth Age; Autumn]





	1. Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> original notes from 2005: WARNING- Being written for November 2005 Novel Challenge thing. May contain tons of spoilers to previously written and unwritten parts of PPB Universe.

“How long until we return home?” Haldir was sitting in the drawing room of the suite he and his spouses stayed in when they were in Oropher’s Palace in the heart of the ages-old city. He had not even looked up from the book he had been reading to ask this question, a question both Legolas and Elodien had heard many a time in the past few weeks.  
  
“Haldir, why do you not go home?” There was no menace in Legolas’ voice, only sincere concern. With a glass of wine in one hand, Legolas walked across the room, his deep green robes open loosely and dragging along the floor behind him. “I am sure Gimli would accompany you back home to the Kastle.” A strong hand came to rest upon Haldir’s shoulder, kneading away the tension there. “We will not be but a few more weeks.”  
  
Relaxing as his muscles were massaged, Haldir rolled his head back and forth, hearing the crackling of his neck at the second pass. “If I leave, I will simply miss you both and end up traveling back.”  
  
“Perhaps there is something else you can do to pass the time,” suggested Elodien. “Why not visit your grandparents?”  
  
“I have, quite a few times.” The trio was in the city visiting their daughter, more accurately the daughter of Elodien and Legolas, and her husband, Gwindor. They had seen their son and daughter-in-law a few times, as well as their grandchildren. It was actually the main reason for their being here- Lasiavis sent word that she was expecting, and Elodien insisted upon being around for the last few months of her daughter’s pregnancy, and for a time after the baby was born. As the mark of one year drew nearer, Elodien spent more and more time with her daughter, while Legolas and Gwindor spent much time discussing things.  
  
That left Haldir to his own devices, for Gimli was usually found in the company of Oropher or Thranduil or one of their wives or a combination of the four. It was argued that Haldir could speak to the only child of Aule in Valinor on his own time at home, but that when he was in Valimar, it was the king of the elves here that was given the chance first and foremost to talk with him. On a few of the days, Haldir had gone to the confectionery that was owned and operated by his grandparents, either to help his grandfather wrap the candies made by his grandmother or to sit in the workroom where all of the wonderful concoctions were made while his grandmother told him stories of Valimar as it had been long years before.  
  
He had already explored the majority of the palace and gone to visit many friends he had here in the city. Early in their visit, he chanced to pass Orophin and Valarda while walking through the market, but they were busy as they always were and after only a brief conversation he found himself alone again. The only place he found that he truly enjoyed was the grand library that he had helped to build centuries ago, perhaps because on certain days of the week, Erestor would be there. Everyone said the farmer turned librarian turned farmer again was absolutely insane to ride all the way into the city early in the morning and all of the way back to his cottage again at night, but Haldir had a certain fondness for the old elf and though he agreed that the routine journeys seemed slightly absurd, he would never say so to his face.  
  
Tomorrow would be one of those days, however, Haldir needed to busy himself that night. As was becoming usual, everyone was having supper with someone else, and no one was doing so with him. A meal was packed already and awaiting him in a sack on the table at the door; a horse was saddled and ready to go wherever Haldir pleased to take it. Allowing himself to lean into Legolas’ touch a little longer, Haldir finally stretched his arms, giving Legolas a chance to slip his hand away. “I will be going out; do not worry about waiting for me.” Each of them was hugged and kissed and said good-bye to before Haldir left the room.  
  
Not wanting to wander aimlessly, Haldir tried to decide upon a destination as he walked down the numerous flights of steps to the ground level. There was his grandparent’s house of course, but he did not wish to overstay his welcome and he had invited himself to a number of dinners already. Orophin had always said to stop anytime, but so often were he and Valarda out that Haldir did not consider this a serious option to begin with. There were a few inns that he could go to, but they tended to be too noisy for his liking.  
  
A quiet place is what he wanted, a place to think. The best place he could think of for such a thing was one of the sanctuaries of the Valar. He had been to Orome’s wooded dwelling a few times and loved the peace and serenity he found there. As he mounted, he decided that he would go to the forest. Unexpectedly when he lead the horse to the exit, he coaxed her to go in another direction. Unsure of why or what was drawing him, Haldir meandered on his unseen path until he reached a different forest. Amazingly, he nearly thought himself to be in Lothlorien again until he realized he was in Lorien- in the Lord Irmo’s dream flower.  
  
There were so many similarities to the home he once knew. The great trees, suitable for climbing and living in, were the most beautiful mellyrn he had ever seen. Covering the ground was a lush carpet of green with a multitude of colorful flowers springing up around the trunk of each tree. Birds sang to the visitor, and what surprised Haldir the most was the total lack of anyone else. Unless they were so far into the woods that he could not see them, Haldir was certain he was the only occupant of the woods.  
  
Dismounting, Haldir continued to lead his mount through the trees. Some unseen force pulled him further into the forest, deeper into the heart of the dream realm until he came to a garden so much like the one his mother kept in Lothlorien. There was one extremely different feature. Instead of the mirror that stood as the focal point of the garden Galadriel had, there was a crystal clear pool fed by a waterfall. The origin of the waterfall was unknown; the water was rushing down from a mountain concealed in mist. The water of the pond itself did not gush over the area that contained it. Merely a ripple flowed across the surface from where the falls filled the pond which did not grow. The entire setup was inconceivable, and so naturally Haldir had to go forward to get a better look.  
  
The pond, he found out when he reached the edge of it, was less natural than it first appeared. It was more of a pool, finely crafted with stones to keep the water from draining or seeping into the ground. He still could not understand the waterfall.  
  
Beside the structure was a carved stone embedded into the ground with flowers of all colors growing around and over it. Crouching down, he read the finely printed text that was etched into the stone:  
  
Break my calm  
My reverie  
Come inside  
Dance with me  
  
“That makes no sense.” Haldir took a look around, making sure no one else was there. He ventured his hand closer to the water. Experimentally, he touched the surface, and the water sang. His hand shot back to his side and he remained motionless as the water ceased and regained the smooth, glassy surface.  
  
Again he checked for anyone to be around, but there was no one that he could see or hear. For the second time he touched the surface of the water, and now dipped his finger in. The singing he could hear once more as a sheen of color rippled over the water from where he broke the surface. Not one color, not many colors, just... color. Unexplainable otherwise, except that it was there, changing the water from crystal to something more beautiful than that.  
  
He removed his hand again, scrutinizing the pool. “Break my calm,” he repeated to himself. He tapped at the surface of the water again, and he could tell the singing was meant to lure him- or whomever came here- into the water. “Come inside, dance with me.”  
  
 ** _Dance with me_**  
  
Haldir jumped back as the water echoed his voice. At least, he had to assume it was the water. There was no one else around that he could perceive. The surface sparkled at him like a wink of the water, and he stuck his hand in again, but this time all the way to his elbow. Something tugged on his hand, but nothing was there. When he removed his hand, he realized for the first time that he was not getting wet. His entire arm was dry.  
  
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, feeling a little silly for asking a pond a question.  
  
 _ **Come inside dance with me**_  
  
Deciding that since he was not getting wet at all, there was no reason to remove his clothing. He did take off his boots, for they had become muddied on his journey. Holding onto the edge of the pond the best he could, Haldir cautiously stepped into the water, finding that the slope inside was slippery and he could not manage a foothold. He could feel the water, feel that it was wet, but when he tested and raised his knee out a little, the fabric of his pants was dry.  
  
 ** _Come inside_**  
  
“I am inside,” replied Haldir, slightly annoyed. The singing he not only heard, but felt now that he was in the water. Color swirled around him on the surface.  
  
A tug on his foot made him look down, but again there was nothing there.  
  
 _ **Trust me come inside**_  
  
This was the first time the words that were sung were not the same as those posted by the pool. Haldir looked around the area again. He felt safe, if nothing else. He felt no menace from this place, and what’s more he was in Valinor. Nothing could happen here. Here, he was safe.  
  
Letting go of the edge, he swam out a little ways until he was at the center of the pond, and then treaded water. For a time, there was nothing except the singing and the color and the peacefulness of the broken calm of the garden. Then, there was a sharp downward tug on Haldir, as if someone had gotten a hold of both ankles and pulled straight down. Unable to fight it, Haldir was yanked beneath the surface into the abyss, soon losing the light from above the water and plunging into darkness. He panicked and fought to be released. Wanting to cry out, he twisted and turned away, still being forced further down. His struggling waned as he continued to hold his breath, determined to free himself.  
  
 ** _Breathe_**  
  
No, no, no, no, no! screamed his mind. He continued to fight, but he was tiring and lightheaded.  
  
 ** _Breathe_**  
  
Of all the ways he had considered he might have died if it ever came to it, he never expected drowning to be one of them. He wasn’t the best swimmer, but he could keep his head above water even in a storm. Once he had even managed to rescue his sister from the Nimrodel’s swift current. But his muscles relaxed and against his will, he gulped in water that should have been air.  
  
 _ **Breathe**_  
  
There was confusion at first, but after the first few shakey breaths, Haldir regained a little of his composure. He was breathing, in a sort of liquidy way. It was thicker than air by far, but it sustained him. How he was able to he knew not, but he thanked the Valar and Eru and anyone else that was listening that he could.  
  
 ** _You are welcome_**  
  
“What are you?” he asked, his voice rippling through the water. He was no longer restrained, finding he did not sink nor float. He was simply there, in the water, in the darkness.  
  
 _ **I do not know that**_  
  
At first he thought perhaps his question was misunderstood, but then he felt the sincerity of this thing, this creature, this whatever-it-was, as his mind kept referring to it. “How can you not know what you are?”  
  
 _ **What are you**_  
  
“I am one of the Eldar.”  
  
 _ **That is what others call you but what are you**_  
  
“I am...” Haldir paused. “I am an elf. I am one of the firstborn.”  
  
 _ **That is a name a title but what are you**_  
  
“I...” Shaking his head, he grasped for what was being asked of him, and came up empty. “I do not know.”  
  
Laughter surrounded him, but the friendly sort of laughter that usually means ‘I understand’. Haldir smiled. “Do you know anything of who you are?”  
  
 _ **I know who I am thank you**_  
  
Ah, that was it. This was not a thing, this was a being. A who, not a what. “I am Haldir.”  
  
 _ **I know who you are**_  
  
Feeling a little silly now, Haldir rephrased his original question. “Who are you and what do you do?”  
  
 ** _I am that is what they tell me_**  
  
“What?”  
  
 ** _I am_**  
  
 _ **That is what they tell me**_  
  
“Who tells you this?” questioned Haldir.  
  
 ** _The ones who built my home so that I would not be lost the one who talks to me the most calls me what in your speaking is Nenolor_**  
  
“Dreamwater,” repeated Haldir. “Nenolor, what is it that you do here?”  
  
 _ **I do not do I exist I am time I am thought I am memory and history I am**_  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
 _ **Excuse me I do not understand your word**_  
  
“Ah...” Haldir thought quickly for something else to say. “If you are all of that why is this place deserted? Why are there not others, uh, breaking your calm?”  
  
 _ **I am what they see what they see me as what am I to you**_  
  
“Uhm. Well, water. I thought.”  
  
 _ **How interesting as I said I exist but that is all you project what you see me as and you see what I am as water**_  
  
“I... do?”  
  
Again, the laughter. Not ‘I understand’, but an ‘I like you, we should be friends’ sort of thing.  
  
 _ **Most see nothing some see fire some see water some see mist it all depends**_  
  
For a little while Haldir let the music soothe him as he sorted through everything that he had been told. “I am trying to understand what you say when you say you are memory. Do you keep memories?”  
  
 _ **Yes**_  
  
“All memories?”  
  
 ** _Yes_**  
  
“Even the ones that we get rid of?”  
  
Laughter.  
  
 ** _You get rid of all of your memories but when you want them they are here you need to think about the right one so that I know which one you need_**  
  
“Damn. I never remember this from any of Master Erestor’s history lessons,” muttered Haldir.  
  
 _ **Erestor**_  
  
“You know him? Wait, of course you do, you likely know everyone,” Haldir reasoned.  
  
 ** _I know him he named me_**  
  
Curiosity rose to the surface. “He is the one who speaks to you. The one who named you Nenolor, you said he talks to you. Why does he speak to you?”  
  
 ** _Why do you speak to me_**  
  
“You pulled me in. I can not leave.”  
  
 ** _I did not you came in on your own_**  
  
“Fine. Sorry. I am sorry, I did not mean it like that.” The music had slowed, Haldir could feel Nenolor’s sadness. “My apologies to you.”  
  
 ** _I accept them_**  
  
“Tell me about Erestor. What does he say when he is here?” Haldir asked.  
  
 ** _He confides in me what he can not tell others and watches many things and weeps_**  
  
Haldir let out a watery, warbled sigh. He had always felt very close to Erestor, and knew the old elf had a certain fondness for him as well. If something was plaguing his friend, he wished he could do something to help him. “For what does he grieve?”  
  
 ** _That he can not call his child his son_**  
  
“Erestor has a son... you mean Gwindor?” asked Haldir. Gwindor, an elf reborn, had been deposited on the doorstep of Erestor and Glorfindel’s cottage as an infant. The pair had lovingly raised the child as there own, nurturing him despite the disability that so many other elves saw as such a weakness. Gwindor could not properly walk. Tortured by the wrath of Morgoth in his first life, he still bore the scars and those of his brother as well in his second incarnation. He was living happily now, married to his beloved Finduilas- the very same elleth that was called Lasiavis in her second life, daughter of Legolas and Elodien.  
  
 ** _No the son of his soul_**  
  
“Erestor has a son... has he told no one but you of this?” Haldir questioned.  
  
 ** _Anglorel knows_**  
  
“Anglorel... Anglorel...” Elves had many names each; one from their mother and one from their father and usually a few others aside from that. Arwen, for example, had been so named by her father, but from her mother came the name Undomiel. He wondered... “Anglorel the slayer of the balrog?”  
  
 _ **Balrog**_  
  
“Ah, the valarauki.”  
  
 _ **Yes**_  
  
So Glorfindel knew. That made sense that Erestor would have told his lover that he had a son. It baffled Haldir, though. How and when and where and who? He began to feel uncomfortable- it seemed something Erestor did not wish known, but on the other hand if it so upset the Elda, Haldir knew he would do whatever he could to make him feel better. “If you are all memories and history, can you show me who his son is?”  
  
 ** _No he has not told me that he does not say his name_**  
  
It would be searching for a needle in a haystack, thought Haldir. That was, until he heard the singing again.  
  
 ** _I can show you what he has said_**


	2. The Sacrifice

“If you keep biting your nails, you will cause your fingers to bleed.” Glorfindel set a bowl of soup down on the table. “Before you give me any fuss over food being here in the library,” interrupted the blond elf before Erestor could begin, “it would not need to be here if you would start coming to dinner. And lunch. And breakfast.” In a lower voice, he said, “You told me it was nothing when you did not show up the night of the banquet, nothing was worrying you, but now, you sit here and worry. The ring is out of Sauron’s hands, peace has come to us, and you sit. And worry. And you have not eaten a thing as far as I can tell. So now, I worry about you.”

“Do not. I am fine.” Erestor had hidden himself a back corner of the library, if one could call it that. In Lothlórien, there were six libraries, each for a different discipline. This happened to be the tree that housed the horticultural, botanical, and agricultural collection. On a table in the back, piles of books surrounded the scholar, blocking him from view of anyone not knowing he was there. The librarians, after the first day of trying to be friendly, had simply left him to himself.

Glorfindel shoved two piles aside so that Erestor was not blocked from the view of whomever might dare sit at the other end of the table and sat down. “Fine, my ass, you are. Elrond has been trying to find you, as has Galadriel.” When Glorfindel noticed Erestor sink down further in his chair, he said, “What is with you?” Leaning across the table, he asked, “Did something happen between you and Galadriel?”

Erestor rested his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. One of the librarians passed by, tsking at the steaming bowl that was on the table, but she said nothing and continued on her way. Bowing his head down further, he leaned his forhead against his palms with his elbows on the table. Staring at the wooden surface, he let out a long sigh that spoke volumes.

“Oh.” Glorfindel bit his lip. “Well.” Taking one of the books from the stack, he opened it and idly paged through. “If you want, I can tell them I could not find you.”

“What does... she... want?”

“Something about staying here and teaching her children. Her daughter was never formally schooled and her son is just at the right age…to...Erestor?” Glorfindel’s voice changed to one of concern when he noticed the tears falling from Erestor’s eyes onto the table. Looking around hastily to find the exit, Glorfindel stood up and then pulled Erestor up from his chair, discretely handing him a handkerchief. As he escorted him from the library, one of the pages took note and wandered over with a worried look. “Onion soup, silly me, it makes him tear up,” Glorfindel said, waving away the page as they made their escape.

Once at the base of the tree, Glorfindel whistled, and Asfaloth trotted over near immediately. The horse nudged his muzzle against Erestor’s shoulder, and the dark elf mounted, blowing his nose once he was on the saddle as Glorfindel leaped up onto the horse behind him. From there they rode to the river, finding a spot that Glorfindel deemed free of the stealthy wardens that patrolled the forest. “My friend, what is wrong?” he asked once they had dismounted.

At the shore, Erestor was staring down into the clear water, into the eyes of his reflection. “Do you recall what I told you so many years ago in Gondolin? What I told you not to reveal to anyone?” Glorfindel nodded beside him. “Glorfindel, I do not know how it is possible, but that child...” Erestor shook his head. “It was not to happen this way. This is not what I meant to pray for.”

The many years they had spent together had somehow allowed them to understand what the other meant even if others would not have. Placing a hand upon Erestor’s shoulder, Glorfindel asked, “Are you saying, you think the boy is your son?”

Swallowing numerous times and dabbing at his eyes with the cloth, Erestor finally nodded. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering a little. “It was not supposed to be this way.”

“But Erestor, he is only a few years old. I assume now that she is the one you had relations with in Valinor long ago. How could-“

“Do you recall when Elrond sent me back to deliver the message to here that their king had fallen?” Erestor looked over to see Glorfindel shaking his head. “When Amdir died, someone had to come to tell Celeborn the news, that Amroth was now king. I spent a few weeks here gathering supplies with the party that traveled with me before we came back. It was in the fall. I was told he was found, in the fall, the following year, beneath a tree. I know, it sounds ridiculous,” said Erestor, seemingly chastising himself. “I have no other solution to it.”

“Is that why you do not wish to speak to her?” asked Glorfindel. Erestor nodded. “But... you are going to tell her about this, are you not?” Erestor shook his head. “Erestor, why not? Erestor, if he is your son somehow- Erestor, you have always said you wanted children!” Glorfindel was trying in vain to get Erestor to look at him, for the dark elf was now traveling down the waterline with his back to the blond. “Erestor, you have to tell her. He should know who is father is.”

“His father is a good elf, a lord, a noble, a husband, a- yes, Glorfindel, yes.” Erestor waited for Glorfindel to stop shaking his head with disproval. “Glorfindel.” Now it was Erestor who was turned from. A sigh, and he marched to the blond, circling around him. “Glorfindel,” he said, taking hold of his cheeks and making his face him, “I will not ruin what he has. It should be this way. This is what is best for him.”

“But is it the best for you?” Glorfindel removed Erestor’s hands from his face, but did not release them. “Erestor, I know you. I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.” This comment made Erestor smile, just a little, for it was probably true. “Erestor, you must tell them.”

“No.”

“Then I will.”

“No!” In a panic, Erestor gripped Glorfindel’s hands tighter. “Fin, please. Do not do this. Fin... Fin, I did not mean for this to happen. I meant for them to have a child, to be happy, to have the family they wanted. How will it be for him, hmm? To have a mother here and a father somewhere else, and to live with an ellon who thought himself his father- Fin, it would be such a mess. Did you see how happy they are? It has been so dark these recent years- let them have that happiness, Fin. Please. Please.”

“I will not tell them.” Glorfindel will nearly knocked backwards from Erestor’s embrace. “And Erestor, I am here for you, for whatever support you need. It seems to wrong, though, Erestor. To exchange their happiness for your own.”

Erestor stepped back, and he wiped the fresh tears from his face. “Sometimes... the best thing for a child is the worst thing for their parent.”

“You are a good father, to make this sacrifice for him.” Glorfindel motioned in the direction of Caras Galadhon. “If you stay here and tutor them, as Galadriel has requested, you could see him everyday.”

The look on Erestor’s face was hopeful, so hopeful. “No,” he said finally. “It would slip, I would say something. I cannot stay here.” Silence fell between them as Asfaloth trotted back. It was becoming dark and a chill wind blew through the trees. “Glorfindel?”

“Yes, Erestor?” The blond reached up to scratch behind his steed’s ears.

“Would you consider staying here, to teach?” Erestor was wringing his hands as he asked. “I would just hate if he were to have a poor education, and I know you would be a great teacher. And you could write to me and tell me how he is doing, and keep watch over him for me.”

Without hesitation, Glorfindel nodded. “For you, I would do anything within my power, my friend.”


	3. The Truth

When Erestor arrived at the Academic Library of Valimar, he already had a visitor awaiting him at his desk. “Haldir, what a truly wonderful surprise to find you here before me!” Setting a leather sack that likely contained the lunch that Glorfindel had packed for him and a book or two down on the back counter, Erestor made his way to the carved oak desk at which Haldir was sitting. “I was very much hoping I might see you today. Are you well? Glorfindel came with me this morn; perhaps the three of us might have tea together.”

Haldir’s eyes followed Erestor around the room, but it was not until he declined to answer that Erestor really looked at him. “Haldir, what is the matter?” Erestor placed his hands flat on the desk, palms down. “You look pale, Haldir. Is something wrong?”

“Break my calm.” Misty eyes darkened to steel, and the smile fell from Erestor’s face. “Why, Adar? Why did you not tell me?”

Erestor held onto the desk for support. “What was I to say? What should I have told you?”

“The truth, Erestor.” Haldir’s eyes glossed over with unshed tears. “You could have told me the truth.”

“Haldir, my son, how could I? You were so happy when I met you, the pride of your parents. You must understand-“

“Good morning!” The cheerful voice of everyone’s favorite reborn elf rang through the library. Though anyone else would have been dutifully shushed, the slayer was instead greeted by many happy waves and even a few flirtatious smiles. In no time he had made it across the room to Erestor’s desk, where he slid his arm comfortably around his lover’s waist. “Good morning, cousin!” he said, addressing Haldir. “Has Erestor invited you yet to tea or perhaps lunch? I am sure he has,” he added, giving the aforementioned elf an affectionate squeeze around his middle. It was then that he took note of Erestor’s shuddering and Haldir’s icy glare. “What is going on?” he demanded in a low voice. A few of the other scribes and librarians had begun to take note as well and were warily watching the situation.

“Haldir-“ began Erestor, but the younger elf slammed his fist down onto the desk before standing up. The chair skidded along the floor as he shoved it back, causing a few others to peep out from around the stacks of books and scrolls. Haldir stared one final time while Erestor gave him a pleading look, then left in a huff, pushing past a page as he exited.

Shifting his gaze from the door to the shaking elf beside him, Glorfindel maneuvered Erestor around to the other side of the desk and moved the chair closer so that the dark elf could sit on it. “Sweetheart, what just happened?” Most of the other elves began to go back to their work, all looking rather bewildered but not about to get involved with whatever had just transpired. One of the newer librarians came around the circulation counter and approached with obvious concern.

“Master Erestor, whatever is the matter?” she asked. “One moment, you were so happy to see that ellon, and the next you looked out of your wits over it. Is there anything I can do?” she offered with deep sincerity.

Erestor, who had let his hands fall into his lap, stared down at them and shook his head. Glorfindel had crouched down so that he was eye-level, and was stroking the mane of black hair soothingly. “Erestor, did he say something, love? What did he do?”

“Nothing,” mumbled Erestor, still looking down into his lap.

“Who was that?” questioned the young librarian, her eyes trained on the doorway lest the one who made their mentor so upset enter again. Erestor answered in a choked, inaudible voice. “Sorry, my lord, I did not hear you.”

“I said, that was my son.” As he repeated the words, he turned his head to look at the doorway, and sat and stared at it for some time.

\- - -

For the next few hours, Haldir wandered about the streets of Old Valimar. He did not wish to see any of his close family or friends, or those he thought to be his family, so he chose the old pathways instead of the new ones that encircled and spread out from Oropher’s Palace, which was at the center of New Valimar. His grandparents, at least the pair he had thought of as his grandparents for so long, lived and worked in a building close to the heart of the newer parts of Valinor’s main city. They owned a confectionery, which his Grandmother operated, and his Grandfather was a carpenter for hire. Orophin was apprenticing with their Grandfather- and it struck Haldir suddenly, to think of how many things he had thought were true were actually lies that no one knew to be lies, except one very secretive pair of elves.

Celeborn, the ellon who had tucked him into bed, read him stories, taught him to fight and hunt, the ellon whom he had looked up to and run to when he felt the most lost, the one who praised him when he was good and scolded him when he was bad, was quite simply, not who Haldir had thought he was. And yet, the thought of anyone else being his father was completely alien to him. So much so, that upon trying to wrap his mind around the idea that Erestor- Erestor!- was related to him in any way, Haldir had the immense urge to kick something or hit something really very hard.

He wanted to confront his parents- again, it seemed odd to think ‘parents’ and try to replace the easy-going, relaxed, silver-haired ellon with the tall, shadowy one he had known as a teacher and friend. His intention had been to talk to Erestor, to find out first if what he was supposing from the memory he had seen was true, and second, to question him. Confusion had led to anger, and by the time Erestor arrived, it was full blown fury. A day ago, he would have done anything to make Erestor feel better, to make him happier. Always there had been something sad about him, though Haldir could never quite place it. Now, he wanted nothing more than to make the older elf feel just as terrible as he himself did.

A small pub at the end of the road caught his eye, and curiosity turned him toward it. The old stone structure looked to have been patched many times over and probably needed a new coat of paint. Over the door was a carving of a swooping eagle in lieu of a sign, and very faintly Haldir could hear the sounds of a harp from within. Pushing the door open, he found the inside to look more charming than the outside. It was not much, but it was cozy and clean. There was a counter to sit at, and an array of mismatched tables if you preferred a place to sit with a group. In one corner, the customary minstrel sat and played, but did not sing. Discussions here were quiet, and many of the elves had their noses in a book or a sheaf of papers scattered upon the table where they sat.

Haldir took a place at the bar; no one had looked up to see him when he entered. Even the one tending the bar looked to be lost in thought, staring out a window in a dreamy fashion as he wiped the counter with a rhythmic movement. It took several minutes for him to notice Haldir, which he did with a look of surprise at first, and then gave him a warm and friendly smile as he hurried over. “Fine day to you. What is it you wish?”

With a shrug, Haldir said, “Something strong. Stronger than wine.”

“Drinking to forget?” asked the bartender as he pulled up a glass and set it upon the counter. “Or drinking to remember?”

“Why would one drink to remember?”

Lowering his voice, the bartender said, “Many of those around you drink to remember. You have stumbled upon, or perhaps you meant to be here but somehow I doubt that, the Brotherhood of Manwë.”

“The what?” questioned Haldir as a glass of strong smelling and probably potent liquor was poured for him.

“The Brotherhood of Manwë. Surely you have not heard of us or else your jaw would not hang so low.” The bartender plugged up the bottle he held with a cork and leaned upon the counter. “We are the dreamers of dreams, and the lovers of words. It is Manwë who delights most in poetry, and it is we who provide him with it.”

“I see.” Haldir looked around at those in the room, stooped over their work with dedication. There was a calm here, and calm was what Haldir needed. This steady calm, the scratching and scribbling of quill upon parchment, and the languid notes of the harper in the corner, was soothing to him.

“Someone give me a word that rhymes with cloud!” shouted a particularly tattered old poet, looking as if he had perhaps foregone sleep for a few days and instead spent it here, sitting at his table. He was obviously writing in Westron as he further explained, “And not shroud! I already used that one!”

It was astonishing to Haldir that the sudden outburst did not shock the rest of the room, and had not caused the harper to miss a note. One of the others began to offer suggestions to the shouter, scratching his chin as he tried to think of something to fit the description of what was needed. Haldir looked to the bartender, who was grinning at the way the shout had jarred Haldir. Clearing his throat, Haldir called to the poet, “What about, LOUD?”

“No, too complex. It will come to me!” The poet bowed his head and began to scribble once more.

Thinking perhaps everyone here was mad, Haldir considered leaving. The bartender extended his hand to him. “Mae govannen. I am Rúmil, the Loremaster of Valinor.”

Haldir’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You? You are- you are Rúmil? The one who created language?”

“Well, just writing, but... yes, yes, that is me,” Rúmil replied. “A number of other things as well, like the ruler and addition, but everyone seems to like the whole writing concept the best. Of course, they all still use rulers and addition, but my language? Nearly discarded, poor Sarati. Takes too long to write with it everyone says, and that was the whole point. People should take time to think before they communicate.”

“This is just... this is just incredible!” Haldir was in awe, and had he not had such a trying night and upsetting morning, he may very well have counted this among one of his best days ever. “You know, I named my little brother after you.”

“Really? Incredible! How marvelous!” Rapping on the counter with his knuckles, Rúmil announced, “Did everyone catch that? I have a little brother named for me. Well, not MY little brother, but HIS little brother. Fabulous, no?”

“So? I have a play named after me,” bragged the writer who had been scratching his chin.

Laughter came from the shouting poet. “Tis because you were the one who wrote it!”

“How incredible,” repeated Rúmil, pouring a drink for himself. “A little brother, named for me. Me. The great Rúmil. Stupendous.” Walking around the counter to the side that Haldir was on, he said, “Do you write, er, sorry, I did not catch your name.”

“Haldir,” he said. “Haldir Cel-“ Pausing, he pursed his lips together. He was at a loss now, whether he should add ‘Celebornion’ or ‘Erestorion’ after his name, so he changed the subject. “I do indeed write, but only a little now and then. I love poetry.”

~~~

“Oh, come now. Let me read it to you.”

“I hate poetry,” sighed Celeborn, and he turned his eyes towards Haldir, who was looming over him with a number of pages in his hand. “Why not put it to music? I do love a good song.”

“Because it is not a song,” countered Haldir, settling himself onto the sofa in the parlour of the First Homely House of Valinor. Built on the seashore, it was really to have been Elrond’s house, to be shared with his beloved Celebrían, and perhaps their sons, their sons spouses, and any grandchildren that may have come along. Instead, it had turned into a home for extended relations as well- the cottage that had been built for his mother-in-law was not one that Celeborn cared for, and so they moved into the First Homely House as well. Prior to that, Celebrían's three brothers were all welcomed with open arms, as were the wives of Rúmil and Orophin, as well as Rúmil's son, when they arrived. At any given time, there were usually about a dozen elves living in the house, give or take two to ten, and a pink flamingo who kept guard at the door and preferred to sit either upon Galadriel’s or Glorfindel’s lap.

Celeborn stabbed at the fire with a poker, and then positioned the grating in place before he stood up again. “My son, I did not mean to upset you, but I really wish to relax, and I am not very good at offering constructive criticism when it comes to poems. Why not read your poem to your mother?”

“She is sleeping. I dare not wake her.” Haldir had not heard the soft footfalls of the dark haired elf who walked into the room and approached him from behind the couch, but he did see Erestor’s reflection in one of the mirrors.

“I would listen to your poem, ergwîn, if you would not mind the critique of an old elf such as I.” 

Haldir turned around and looked up into the gentle, hopeful eyes of his brother-in-law’s ex-advisor. “You would not mind?”

“I love poetry,” Erestor reminded him as they left the room to sit on the porch and recite lyrical lines of colorful, descriptive, emotional poems to one another.

~~~

Haldir was jolted from his temporary reverie by the hand that was waved in front of his eyes. “Sorry, I think we lost you for a moment.”

“My apologies.” Haldir blushed slightly. “I was... lost in a memory.”

“Oh, excellent. You will fit right in here,” said Rumil, leading him into the midst of the members of the brotherhood.

\- - -

Haldir was attacked from both sides before the door even closed behind him.

“We have been worried sick over you!” Elodien was clinging to his left side, while Legolas had taken the right and had his arms around both Haldir and their wife. “When you did not return, I thought perhaps you had fallen asleep somewhere, perhaps in one of the studies or in the museum. At breakfast, the maids told us you were no where to be found! We went looking all over for you! Your mind was closed to us, so we could not-“

“You must be exhausted,” interrupted Legolas, patting Elodien on the back to calm her. Stepping back only just a little, he touched the darkness beneath one of Haldir’s eyes. “You did not sleep last night. Something troubles you.”

One of the last things Haldir wanted to do at the moment was talk about what had transpired since he had left, but more than that he did not wish to lie to either of them. When asked by Elodien, “Where have you been?” he answered truthfully:

“I saw my father today. Then I spent a little time... with some poets.”

Legolas raised his eyebrows, unseen by Haldir, in Elodien’s direction. There was a heavy scent of spirits on Haldir’s breath, and he had been gone for an entire day and the previous night. Something was quite obviously wrong, but there was no reason to bring it up if Haldir would not himself. In time he would. Still, times like these always concerned Legolas. Being the eldest of the three he was prone to what his father, Thranduil, liked to call ‘First Age Elf Syndrome’, the need to know everything all of the time and to keep everything in perfect working order. Flaws were inescapable, especially when one was married to second and fourth agers, so Legolas simply bolted the door and awaited for Haldir to make the next move.

“Are you hungry?” asked Elodien.

Slowly, Haldir turned to look at her and nodded, his arms weaving their way around her back.

“I shall have something sent up for you, then,” she said, but Haldir shook his head and did not loosen his hold on her. He leaned forward, kissing lightly upon her lips, then again, and deeper. He slid his tongue into her mouth, bringing forth a muffled moan.

Letting his hand drop from Haldir’s back, Legolas walked across the room to shut the curtains. He looked forward to the show his two lovers would put on for him, but he was a greedy sort of elf and did not take kindly to others watching as well. As he began to dim the lights by blowing out a few candles, he heard his name called out by a deep voice. Turning around, he caught the look in Haldir’s eyes and lowered his head just slightly as he walked back, giving them both the most seductive look he could muster. By the time he had reached them, Haldir was concentrating on the elleth once again.

“Is this what you want, my lord?” Legolas smiled when he heard Haldir groan into Elodien’s mouth. He pressed against his silver-haired lover, a hand wandering between the pair to tease them both, but mostly, to caress Haldir. “What is it that you want? Do you wish for me to take you, right here, on the floor? Or shall we go to the bedroom? You can have our darling little princess, and I shall have you. Is that what you desire?” he whispered. “Spill within her, and I shall come inside of you?”

Come inside... dance with me...

Break my calm... my reverie...

With a start, Haldir yanked himself away from Elodien, forcing Legolas to stumble back. By the time the other two regained their bearings, Haldir was backed up against the door with his arms encircling himself, hugged around his chest. He looked angry, and disgusted, and sad, and so very, very alone.

“Love, what is wrong? What have I said?” Legolas tried to approach him, but Haldir pushed himself further back against the door. “Haldir, tell us what is going on. Tell us what we can do to help you. Please, Haldir.”

The inner turmoil was evident: Haldir was trying so hard to keep his stoic, solid appearance, but the mix of emotions marred his features. The battle within raged for a little while as Haldir left the safety of the door and he began to pace, from the middle of the room to the windows and back again, stopping sometimes to look at one or the other or both of his spouses before beginning again. The chimes of the grand clock that Oropher kept at the bottom of the great spiraling staircase leading to the family rooms of his palace startled Haldir as he stood at the window.

No one could hear the sounds of the battle, but within Haldir’s head the same words echoed over and over like a curse placed upon him. The chiming stopped now, and the anticipation lingered before the gong of the clock struck.

Break my calm...

-BONG-

My reverie...

-BONG-

Come inside...

-BONG-

Dance with me...

-BONG-

Break my calm...

-BONG-

My reverie...

 

On the eighth stroke of midnight, Haldir fell to his knees at the window, collapsing into sobs. Elodien slid to his side and gathered him up as any mother would; Legolas took his steps with caution, listening to everything and anything for a clue of what was going on. He joined them on the floor for a short while, soothing Haldir along with Elodien when it was evident that Haldir was too upset to give him more than the single name he had managed to utter in the midst of his whimpers and sobs.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time Legolas managed to carry Haldir into the bedroom. He and Elodien undressed him as he began to doze off into a restless sleep.

“Take care of him. I will return as soon as I am able.” Legolas pressed his lips to the soft tufts of hair to kiss Elodien’s forehead before giving her a hug and then leaving the room.

His steps took him immediately to the Elm Room. Unlike the First Homely House, where anyone and everyone entered whichever parlor they chose, those in the palace either came to the Elm Room for a drink, a smoke, and a game of cards away from their wife, or to the Mellyrn Room for a glass of wine, a bit of gossip, and a bit of rest away from their husband. At half past one in the morning, it was not unlikely to find someone both older and wiser relaxing in the Elm Room. His hunch was not wrong, however, Legolas would much have preferred to have found his father or grandsire here. Still, it was worth a moment to see if either of the elves still up at this late an hour had any idea of what was going on with his husband.

“Good morn, Thaladir. Galion.” Legolas nodded in the direction of the pair, who had been having a drink and, as was suspected, were playing a few hands of cards. At any other time, Legolas might have been tempted to ask Thaladir just how proper it was for an elf to play cards at half past one in the morning, however, he had much more important matters on his mind than the seemliness of his father’s ex-seneschal’s actions.

Galion pointed to an empty chair. “Care to join us?” he offered, shuffling the deck.

Legolas shook his head, yet sat down anyway. “My mind is too ill to concentrate on games.”

“Something is ailing you?” questioned Thaladir.

“My husband is unwell, and that troubles me.” Legolas continued as Galion poured him a bowl of wine. “He was gone all day, and the past night as well. When he returned, he was agitated, but tried to have myself and Elodien disregard it. Then, something set him off, and he became wild, and scared, and then- he broke down when the clock chimed. I can not explain it. All I have to go on are his behavior and what few words I heard him say.”

“Go on.” Thaladir had long since put down his bowl and was now concentrated fully on Legolas, as was Galion. “Tell us what he said.”

“I could not make out everything, but he was troubled. The name I did hear was Erestor, and something about a secret he kept.” Legolas caught Thaladir’s flinch, but said nothing. “I fear he has discovered something troubling him greatly, something he believes he must keep a secret, but I do not know what it might... be...” Legolas trailed off as the sound of Galion’s snoring grew. The old butler had fallen asleep on his chair, his head, tilted back and his mouth open.

“Oh, for Eru’s sake,” mumbled Thaladir, and he nudged the other elf’s foot with his own. “Galion!”

“Hmm? What? Coming sire!” Galion jumped up, upsetting the table a bit and spilling some wine. “Is it morning already?”

“Galion, take rest. Your wife is probably lonely in your bed.” Thaladir waited until Galion had sleepily said his goodnights and left the room before Thaladir began to clean up the sloshed wine. 

As Thaladir set down his bowl on the now cleaned table, Legolas said, “You know something that you do not wish to tell me.”

“I know something that I promised not to tell anyone,” answered Thaladir.

“Normally, I would not pry, but he was in quite a state.” Legolas gave Thaladir a pleading look. “Whatever it is, if it may have affected Haldir, surely you must tell me, Thaladir.”

Recalling a time long in the past, Thaladir finally acquiesced. “I will tell you, but only because it is so serious a matter. You must swear to me you will not tell anyone, save your wife. I will need to tell Erestor that I have told you what I am about to say.”

The clock in the hall chimed two.


	4. The Chosen One

After the first minute, it was obvious that the incessant knocking upon the door was not about to cease. Thaladir gave the door a withering look before regarding the other elf who was occupying the room. Prince Thranduil, who had been removing his boots after the long journey from Greenwood to Gondor, squeezed his eyes shut and nodded as the pounding increased in volume. Thaladir crept to the door, and then the seneschal of Greenwood yanked the door open, somewhat hoping that whomever had disturbed them in such an improper manner would promptly fall into the room, simply for the fact that they would hopefully never think to do such a thing again.

This, however, was not the case, for the occupant of the connecting suite had pulled a chair up to the door, and now lowered his hand as a grin formed across his face. “Good day to you! It appears we are to be neighbors for the duration of the conference!”

Thaladir narrowed his eyes at the cheeky blond ellon sitting in the doorway. ‘Not if I can help it’, was the thought that came to mind, however, what he said was, “How charming. Pleased to meet you...”

“Glorfindel, are you antagonizing the people next door?” Into the view that the pair from Greenwood had came a second elf on the other side, wearing a thick bathing robe and drying off his long, inky hair with a towel. “Thaladir! So very good to see you, my friend,” said Erestor as he took a look over Glorfindel into the adjoining rooms. “Thranduil? Is that you as well?”

“Aye,” came the tired voice from around the corner. Thranduil wearily stood up from the comfort of the bed he had claimed in the room, simply from the fact he was the first one into the room and this was the bed closer to the entryway. He had had a very simple plan for the evening: arrive, nap, shower, eat, sleep. Proper etiquette was now dictating otherwise. “Erestor, you look well. Who is your boisterous companion?”

“This is our new captain of the guard,” said Erestor, draping the towel around his shoulders and placing his hands upon the back of the chair that the blonde elf sat upon. “We served together in Gondolin. Perhaps you have heard me speak the name Glorfindel before.”

Thranduil took his first look at the elf so praised in story he was nearly a legend. “Ah, so this is your friend Glorfindel. Pardon my rudeness; I thought you to be deceased.”

“Only recently so,” admitted Glorfindel. “NOT planning on doing THAT again.”

“Very good. As I always say, a live elf is better than a dead one,” Thranduil said, holding out his hand and introducing himself. “Thranduil Oropherion, Prince of Greenwood the Great and Chief Advisor to his majesty, King Oropher, long live the king.”

“Yes, I agree,” confirmed Glorfindel as he clasped Thranduil’s arm in greeting. “Too many kings die much too young.”

As on so many occasions, Thaladir wanted to do nothing more than to correct the number of indecencies transpiring at this moment, the least of which was the fact that Thranduil did not ‘always say’ that live elves were better than dead ones, for who truly would say such a thing? Instead, he bowed slightly to this strange, cheerful elf and made his own introduction. “I am Thaladir, the General of His Royal Highness’ Grand Army.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Glorfindel, and he stood and bowed back. “You must forgive me; I am still trying to remember customs and everything else. Things were done so differently in death.”

“Quite a lot of constant knocking on doors in the Halls of Mandos?” Thaladir raised on brow, but did not smile nor smirk.

“All the time,” answered Glorfindel without missing a beat. “Not a day went by that I did not begin my morning by pounding upon Namo’s door to see what he was having for breakfast.” So involved was Glorfindel in his mock conversation, he missed Erestor’s glare, and consequently, the movement to his side until Erestor had reached over, taken hold of his ear, and tweaked it. Instead of yelping or moving away, Glorfindel simply continued and attempted to retaliate. “Sometimes, I would get an entire group together, and we would all bang on his door until he let us in.” Settling for rubbing his pinched ear, Glorfindel asked, “I wonder if the two of you would care to join us for dinner downstairs.”

‘We have other plans,’ was what Thaladir really, truly wished to say, but instead he answered, “We would kindly accept your invitation, but are rather fatigued from the ride.”

“Allow me to have something brought up for us. We can dine here and discuss things other than political matters for a while. I shall return in a moment,” Glorfindel replaced the chair at the desk he had taken it from and then made his way to the hall- however, he entered into the rooms that had been assigned to the Greenwood party, missed the baffled and disturbed looks he was receiving from Thranduil and Thaladir, and then continued into the hallway. He also left the door wide open behind him.

“Erestor, I do believe your friend may have been born in a barn,” remarked Thranduil as he walked to the door, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers. “Well, he is certainly... different,” decided Thranduil.

“Your pardon, Erestor, but he seems a bit queer to me,” Thaladir said after the door had been closed.

Erestor, who was now leaning his back against the doorway between the rooms and combing his hair, smiled slightly. “You have no idea. Oh, and before I forget- he knows about me.”

“Does he really? I seemed to get that idea from the fact you are sharing the room.” Thranduil smirked at his own jest. “What is it he knows; the same secret we have kept these many years?”

Giving them a nod, Erestor tossed the comb in the direction of the bed on his side of the doorway and then started to braid his long, ebon hair. “I told him, back in Gondolin. Back in those days, he was not so...”

“Queer?” offered Thaladir.

“No, no, I think he was always like that,” said Erestor, and the response from Thaladir was a slightly more baffled look. “He is...” Erestor fought for the most delicate way of putting it.

Instead, Thranduil answered bluntly for him. “He likes males.”

Erestor blinked in confusion. “Hmm. I never recall mentioning that about him to you, Thranduil.”

“You did not need to,” said Thranduil. “Any ellon whose eyes linger in certain areas of others the way his did is not fighting on our side. So to speak.”

“Where were his eyes lingering?” Thaladir shifted uncomfortably.

“Not on you. No offense, but those robes are very unflattering to your form,” pointed out the prince. 

“Good. I shall wear them the entire conference.” 

“Oh, just change into something comfortable, Thaladir.” Though it was not really an order of any sort, Thranduil said it as if it could have been. “He glanced at us; his eyes lingered elsewhere.”

Leaning in the doorway with one long braid draped over his shoulder, Erestor said, “His eyes have ‘lingered elsewhere’ the entire journey; I do hope Gildor is here for these meetings. It would be nice for Glorfindel to have someone around who can linger back.”

Down the hallway, the sounds of knocking could be heard. A rather loud familiar knocking, which came just before a cheerful, “Good eve’n’, and my apologies for disturbing you. I seem to have lost my rooms!” or something of the sort.

None of the three made any attempt to open the doors until the loud knocking was heard on the other side. ‘Perhaps he will move on’, thought Thaladir to himself, but this hope was shattered when laughter rang out and the knocking continued.

“I know the three of you are in there! Now, it has been fun, but our dinner is getting cold. Please open the door for me?”

When the door was opened, Glorfindel bowed to Thaladir for obliging him and said, “I left it open to know which ones were ours, but the wind must have caught it and shut it. Yes, that wind, always doing such tricky things.” The golden elf placed the platter he was carrying on the middle of Thaladir’s bed, though he could not have known that was whose bed it was at the time. “Let me get the chairs from our room- or, we can have a picnic between our rooms on the floor,” mused the reborn elf as his eyes wandered about the room looking for another option.

“Allow me to help you,” offered Thranduil, walking past Erestor to aid Glorfindel in retrieving the chairs.

\- - -

“I almost forgot,” said Glorfindel as the four elves finished their meal. “I asked the cook about dessert, but it was not finished. Then I convinced her to take a request,” he said with the ever-confident smile he wore so often. “She has peach cobbler waiting for us, with baked apples. I will not be gone but a few minutes,” he said as he excused himself, and as he left, he said, “Please, leave the door open this bit for me.” The door was left ajar, and he was gone.

When he was sure that Glorfindel was far enough down the hallway, Thranduil turned to Erestor and said, “I take back what I said earlier.”

“Oh?” Erestor sipped his wine.

“He does not linger his eyes upon you; he was leering all through supper.” Thranduil’s comment was met with a shrug. “There is also the matter of the half dozen compliments he paid upon your behalf.” When this received no verbal response, Thranduil finally stated, “Erestor, I do believe he is in love with you.”

“Nonsense. He is just very, very friendly,” countered Erestor.

Thranduil sighed. “Think what you like, say what you like, but I do not believe he has as great an interest in Gildor as you say he does.”

The room was silent until Glorfindel returned, carrying a tray of desserts and a bowl of freshly whipped cream. “Delightful little place, this Gondor,” he said as he set the tray down. “Shall we retire to the other rooms for drinks and dessert?”

“Splendid idea,” said Thaladir, thankful to get them away from eating on his bed. He made haste in helping to gather the plates and utensils so that they could be stacked on the large platter. Once it was placed in the hallway, they moved into the rooms assigned to Rivendell, which were nearly a mirror image of the ones the Greenwood delegation was using, except for the personal belongings that were scattered around.

Now the chairs needed to be brought on this side of the doorway, and they were not so comfortable after having spent the last hour in them. So Glorfindel sat on the floor leaning against Erestor’s bed, while the dark elf sat upon it with his back against the headboard. Thranduil and Thaladir took up residence on opposite ends of the couch that was provided in the room.

“So,” asked Thranduil, swirling around the wine in his glass as he leaned back to relax, “Erestor, do tell us- what is it like to be one of the Valar?”

\- - -

“Stop.” Legolas was leaning his elbows on the table, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers much in the same fashion his father did. “Thaladir, surely you are not seriously telling me-“

“When I was first told of it, Legolas, I was in a state of shock. I could not believe what I was hearing,” said Thaladir.

“Neither can I,” admitted Legolas, looking exhausted and drained.

The clock in the hall chimed three.

And there was a knock on the main entrance door.


	5. Love and Hate

“It was a good idea for you to speak to Gwindor.” Glorfindel knocked on the door again, despite the early hour of their arrival. There was always someone awake at the palace to let friends, family, and visitors inside the great stone structure. “He seemed to take things rather well, finally finding out about your past.”

“I will have to tell Nenniach as well,” said Erestor, referring to the daughter he had adopted long ago in Imladris. He had thought her to be his daughter in Gondolin, until it was revealed she was Maeglin's child. Still, he kept in contact when he could, and finding her in Imladris at the dawn of the realm's founding was how he made his decision to call Rivendell home. They were the only family each other had during that uncertain time, and he was only too glad when she suggested he call her daughter officially. She had long since grown up by the time they were reunited, was eventually married to Rumil, and had a child of her own, however, Erestor still referred to her as his little girl. 

Erestor was leaning against Glorfindel, unconsciously clinging to his arm for support. He straightened up as the lock of the door clicked and slowly opened away from them. 

“Legolas, how good to see you. Our apologies for arriving at such a late hour-“ began Glorfindel, but to his surprise the door was slammed shut in their faces. “Oh, dear,” he mumbled, voicing the sentiment of both elves on the outside of the palace.

On the other side of the door, Legolas looked over his shoulder to the elf standing at the top of the stairway leaning his hands upon the railing. “Whatever did you do that for?”

“I... I do not know, Thaladir. I did not... mean to, it just... happened.” His eyes wandered to the ceiling, near the spot where the rooms he shared with his husband and wife would be. “I think he made me do it. I think he knows they are here.” With a look of worry, he added, “I need to go back up there.”

“I shall get the door.” Thaladir calmly made his way down the steps, passing Legolas on the way. The younger elf bolted up the stairway and disappeared around the corner of the upper level. When Thaladir pulled the door open, he found the pair on the other side sitting on a bench some feet away and in hushed discussion with one another. “My apologies. A place so old and drafty as this is prone to gusts of wind,” he explained as Glorfindel approached the palace door with Erestor walking solemnly behind him.

“Ah, yes, the wind,” replied Glorfindel. “I understand completely.” As they entered, the blond looked around and asked, “Where is Legolas?”

“He had to attend to Haldir; it seems he did not take the news all too well.” Thaladir motioned for them to follow him up the stairs, which they did. He led them into the Elm Room and poured bowls of wine for all three of them, leaving the table he had been occupying earlier to be taken care of by the butler. “I assume that is why you are here.”

Giving a nod as he shakily picked up the bowl, Erestor answered, “I was hoping I might speak with Haldir if he will see me.”

“Quite impossible at the moment.” The trio looked to the doorway, where Thranduil was now standing. “I was awoken by a knock upon the door, and when I emerged into the hallway barely caught the sight of my son entering his rooms. When I knocked upon the door to demand an explanation of just what was going on at this hour, I was told in no uncertain terms to go away.”

“He literally told you to go away?” asked Glorfindel as Thranduil joined the group at the table and took for himself the winebowl that Erestor had been shakily holding onto but not drinking from. 

Thranduil took a long drink from the bowl and then said to Glorfindel, “I knocked upon the door, something was thrown at it. Something very heavy, and likely very expensive, which then crashed down to the floor and broke with an awful shatter. I can only hope that if it truly was something expensive,” he continued, “that it was also something very ugly that I will not mind seeing destroyed.”

“I doubt it was Legolas who threw it at the door, whatever it was.” Thaladir decided not to detail Legolas’ hasty retreat, but instead went right to the root of the matter at hand. “If anything, it was Haldir. Legolas was quite calm when I told him your secret, but he said that Haldir was terribly upset. I would not have said a thing, except that Legolas was most concerned about Haldir’s well-being and I assumed that if Haldir knew, Legolas was not far from finding out. He was shocked, but he took the news rather well. Better than I myself took it, I must say,” admitted Thaladir.

Erestor sat in stunned silence for a little while, mulling things over in his mind, turning over events again and again. He met Glorfindel’s worried gaze. Before today, no one, with the exception of Glorfindel, knew that Haldir was his son. “Thaladir, what did you tell him?”

“Only that your father is Oromë, and that-“

“W-w-what?” Erestor’s face grew pale. “I never said- that is, I thought Haldir only knew about- and now Legolas- oh, no...” He placed a hand over his mouth and nose, and then the other as well, breathing rapidly and trying to calm himself. Glorfindel’s features were grim, and he rubbed his hand upon Erestor’s back. “I must speak to him. I must speak to Haldir.”

“I doubt he wants to speak to anyone, and I can understand that. To find out someone you are so close to is one of Eru’s chosen is a most unusual thing,” reasoned Thranduil. The entire time, Erestor was shaking his head.

“You do not understand,” said the dark elf, standing up abruptly. “I must speak with him!”

“Peace, Erestor, wait until the break of dawn at least.” Thranduil looked to Glorfindel with concern. “We shall break our fast together and the matter can be discussed then.”

“No, you do not understand,” repeated Erestor through clenched teeth. Thranduil narrowed his eyes and gave Erestor a stern look, but did not try to sway him again.

“Erestor, listen to Thranduil. Wait a while.” This advice came from Glorfindel, who stood and guided Erestor away from the door and back to the table. “Darling,” he said, his voice low and commanding as he whispered into Erestor’s ear, “whatever you wish to say to him can wait a few hours more. You are leaving a trail of confusion in your wake, and if you do not explain things to them,” he said, his head nodding in the direction of Thranduil and Thaladir, who both looked perplexed and more than a little ruffled, “then someone else will. You told me once yourself that you wished to be the one to tell Haldir if it ever came to him finding out. Well, you have missed your chance for that, but you can still tell them before someone else does. Would it not make you happier knowing that you told them yourself?”

All the while, Glorfindel’s words seemed to have a soothing effect on Erestor, who bowed his head and nodded in agreement before taking a seat at the table once again. “It is a long story,” he said apologetically, unable to look at those in the room. His eyes studied his hands as he began to speak the words he had often thought he would say to Haldir first.

\- - -

In another part of the palace, Legolas was staring in disbelief at the broken shards of pottery that littered the area near the door leading out of the room. “Pity. I liked that vase,” he said, which was actually quite the contrary. In fact, Legolas was glad that Haldir had chosen the ugly, squat decorative piece instead of one of the etchings on the wall or one of the plates that were lined up over the doorway. ‘Probably a good thing he can not reach the plates,’ mused Legolas to himself as he cautiously strolled over to where Haldir was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. “I did not know it was him, or else I would not have opened the door,” said Legolas, touching Haldir’s shoulder.

Elodien sleepily came to where her mates were standing, and wrapped her arms around Haldir’s chest as she stood behind him. The bed sheet that had trailed after her slipped to the ground as she placed her cheek upon his back. “Come back to bed, love. Close the door and ignore them for now.”

Reaching down, Haldir unlaced Elodien’s fingers from one another and then turned to face her. Grabbing a fist full of dark locks, he forcefully kissed her while his other hand wandered down to her rear, squeezing and kneading the bare flesh. Lifting her up into his arms, he carried her back into the bedroom, and from the state of things as Legolas looked in, he had a feeling this was not the first time this evening Haldir had thrown Elodien onto the bed and straddled her.

The door was closed, and Legolas looked first to the plush chair in the corner. He often sat and watched, a trait inherited from his father, one his brother had as well. There was something about looking at beautiful things- such as, crystal clear, sparkling diamonds- that fascinated those of the Green Leaf clan. The sight of two lovers with limbs entangled, panting and gasping for breath, clinging to one another as they engaged in the most sensual of acts also fit into the category of beautiful things. The chair was left empty, for Legolas passed it by and went to the dresser, from which he pulled out a jar and placed the lid aside, still watching the pair, still staring as he came to the edge of the bed and stopped.

Was it wrong, what Legolas was about to do? Not really- the fact he knew that what he was going to do was going to cause Haldir to sleep deeply for the next few hours at least meant that he had obviously done this before, but not for this purpose. Legolas would perhaps have felt a little guilty about it, but he knew it was for Haldir’s own good that he rest soundly, and the only way to do that was to get his mind completely off of whatever was plaguing him.

Knealing down on the mattress, Legolas leaned one hand into the downy pillows as he bent his head and nuzzled Haldir’s neck, licking his jaw. Any objection would have been voiced now, but instead, Haldir lifted his head and nipped at Legolas’ lips, kissing him intensely before returning his attention to the elleth beneath him. Legolas repositioned himself and dipped the fingers of his left hand into the jar and swirled them around. He was sitting on the bed just to the side of the pair upon it.

The salve was thick and did not drip or run off of his fingers, but once he slid a single digit inside of Haldir, the paste liquefied. Legolas spent little time preparing him; the whole point was to wear Haldir out, and the only real way to do that was to take him with as little preparation as possible. Just enough not to hurt him, but not enough to make it so easy.

\- - -

Immediately after explaining things- all things, EVERYthing, Thranduil directed Erestor and Glorfindel to one of the guest rooms to rest. Breakfast would be served late, everyone in the palace who needed to be there would attend, and already Thranduil had it in his mind to speak with his own father about setting up some sort of meeting with everyone who needed to be informed. The most logical place would be the King’s Kastle, the combination pub, inn and dancehall which Thranduil owned and operated with the aid of Elrohir and his wife, Glorcheniel. 

In the meantime, it was decided that all major parties involved truly needed some time away from one another, and so the rooms farthest from those that Legolas, Haldir and Elodien shared were selected for Glorfindel and Erestor. Once the door was shut, Glorfindel escorted Erestor into the bedroom, where he took to undressing his lover and turning down the bed.

“Come. You need rest.” Glorfindel stood by the bed, watching Erestor, who stood by the window peering out at the vast grounds below. “Come here, Erestor, I do not think the gardeners need a full view of your naked body,” he half-scolded as he pulled the curtains closed and nudged Erestor to the bed.

“He hates me.”

“He does not hate you. He just needs a little time to absorb it all.” Glorfindel sighed as he pressed down on Erestor’s shoulders, forcing him to sit upon the bed, before lifting his dark lover’s legs onto the mattress, pushing his shoulder back to get him to lie down, and tucking the blanket around him. “When Oromë came to you and told you he was your father, what was your reaction? How long did you take to accept it?”

Erestor did not answer as Glorfindel slid into bed on the other side. A single candle remained burning on the table beside the bed- Glorfindel's secret shared between them. Instead of waiting for an answer, Glorfindel pulled his lover into his arms. There was only one surefire way to make sure Erestor would get some rest, and though perhaps it was not the most conventional way of going about things, it was the most effective. And, the most pleasurable. “Do you think these rooms are stocked with all of the... necessities of a bedroom?” asked Glorfindel as he whispered into Erestor’s ear, kissing the tip before rolling back to his side where the table was, and pulled the drawer open.

Indeed, someone, whether it be the maid, the butler, or Oropher himself, had seen to it that an array of small vials of oil as well as a stack of soft cloths to clean things up later were stocked in the room. Pulling out the nearest of the vials, Glorfindel pulled off the top and sniffed it experimentally. He smiled as the musky scent sent a zap of raw energy down to his groin and caused him to twitch. Glorfindel looked beside him, where Erestor was now on his stomach. His hair inky flowed across the pillow and his head rested in his smooth, milky arms, one dark eye watching Glorfindel intently. “I suppose you expect me to let you have your way with me,” he said, rolling the vial between his fingers to warm the oil within. Erestor gave a shrug of one shoulder, his hair shifting slightly and catching the glimmer of the candlelight.

Half of the oil was spilled into Glorfindel’s palm, and he carefully set the rest aside before rubbing his hands together. He ran his hands up Erestor’s back, gripping his shoulders and kneading them while he moved to straddle his body. Erestor moaned into the pillow as the tension was relieved from his muscles. Eyelids drooping, he further relaxed, making it quite easy for Glorfindel to prepare him with the remainder of the oil, and to penetrate him as well. “Oh, valar, you feel so good,” murmured Glorfindel, before chuckling at his own words. “I can call you that now,” he whispered into Erestor’s hair, pressing forward until he was sheathed fully within his lover’s body. “My beautiful Vala. Oh, you feel so, so good...”

As for Erestor, he was groaning, purring, and clawing at the pillow, just as he so often did. The sounds he made further fueled Glorfindel’s passion, and the blond slid slowly out of the tight grip of his dark lover’s body, only to enter him again and repeat his actions over and over as Erestor’s cries became louder.

\- - -

Of the three, Haldir had always been the noisiest. Not that Legolas and Elodien did not make their share of needful groans and growls, but Haldir’s were consistent, and louder by far, with an almost animalistic quality. As soon as Legolas had readied Haldir for him, Haldir removed himself from Elodien and looked over his shoulder for Legolas’ instructions. The regal elf of Mirkwood was knelt with his legs open, his arms behind him at either side with the fingers of his hands splayed out to keep his balance. Proud and erect, his member glistened with the lotion that ran down his length to the base. Haldir raised himself up on his knees, then slowly and carefully backed up with Elodien’s guidance until he was positioned above Legolas before lowering himself down, letting out a long, shuddering moan the until he was seated snuggly on Legolas’ lap.

Brushing the stray tangles of hair from her face, Elodien knelt facing the joined pair. Inching up to them, she stroked Haldir a few times before easing herself onto him. She was the only one who moved of the three, holding onto Haldir’s shoulders as she raised herself on and off of his erection, while Legolas simply enjoyed the sensations that he felt as Haldir clenched his muscles and groaned.

\- - -

First, he looked down the passage that led to the east wing. Then, he looked down the passage that led to the west wing. His head turned back to the east, then over again to the west. East, and now west. Back again to the east, and now, to the west. Thranduil raised his fingers to his temples and rubbed them as another burst of sound came from the west wing, followed by some sort of grunting from the east side of the hall. Thranduil rubbed his head a little harder, and closed his eyes, willing the sounds to go away.

“Darling, there you are. I was worried when you did not return. I-“ Avisiel halted as a long, loud, cry of passion came from down the first corridor. “Oh, my word!”

A second outcry followed, but the sound came from the other end of the hallway, and afterwards, silence.

Avisiel stood three steps behind her husband, who was now rubbing his eyes. Her mouth was hanging open as she ever so slowly followed with her eyes the path from which an enormously sated and thankful sigh came from. “We... seem to have guests...” she remarked in a fairly dumbstruck voice.

“We need to do something about the acoustics in this part of the palace,” said Thranduil. He turned around and regarded his wife, who had come from their rooms on the ground floor wearing naught but her thin white night robe.

Avisiel’s eyes trailed up her husband’s body, and she licked her lips when they reached his toned, muscled chest, left bare for his thigh length robe that he wore with his sleeping pants had been left untied. Her gaze met his, and the pair stood on the steps regarding one another in the dim hallway. The great clock below chimed the hour of five.

“Dawn will break in two hours. Breakfast is in four. We should be in bed,” said Thranduil.

“Aye, we should,” agreed Avisiel. A nymphish smile appeared upon her lips, but her husband did not return it with a signal of his own. Instead he said, “It is late.”

With a sigh, the elleth turned her back to him and leaned her head to one side in a somewhat demure and passive fashion. Desire was in her eyes as she flashed them back at him and rolled her shoulders back. Unseen to him, she had loosened the belt of her robe, and her neck and shoulders were now bare to him, teasing him as she sashayed down the steps slowly, pausing midway down the stairway.

Thranduil opened his mouth to speak, but found his mouth dry. Damn her and bless her, she always got her way, crazy wonderful elleth that she was. Still, he shook his head in defiance. No, absolutely not, he had put his foot down on the matter. However, one key part of his anatomy was springing up with a resounding yes, and she smiled charmingly at him as she padded down a few more stairs, allowing her robe to dip down her back until the fabric swooped over her buttocks but revealed the back of her upper body.

Breathing in deeply, Thranduil leaned against the post of the banister, trying very hard to look uninterested. His roving eyes told her otherwise as she moved to the bottom of the stairway. With movements so graceful and smooth as silk, the robe fell to a pool around her feet. Swift steps took Thranduil to the bottom landing in just a few heartbeats.

In a truly chivalrous way, Thranduil stopped behind Avisiel, bent down while averting his eyes to the side, and lifted her robe up from the floor by the collar. He stood again, holding it stead for her as she threaded her arms back through with a polite smile. His movements became much more familiar as he settled his hands on her back where the belt looped around, and slid them around until his hands were comfortably upon her hips. “Only you, my dearest,” he said to her, and took her back to their rooms for a thorough ravishing.

\- - -

On the eastern side of the palace, Legolas was quietly telling Elodien what he had been told as Haldir slept, completely exhausted from their lovemaking. “I would not think it would have affected him so badly, though I admit it is a shock,” said Elodien. “Perhaps he will be better come morning.”

“I am hopeful of it,” said Legolas. He was on the soft, comfortable chair now, with Elodien in his lap. Together they watched the slumbering form of their husband, looking rather peaceful. “So strange, is it not?” questioned Legolas.

“Hmm?” Elodien shifted to lean her head upon Legolas’ shoulder and yawned. “What is so strange? About Erestor?”

“No, though that is something else entirely. I meant Haldir, the way he takes his rest. So strange that he closes his eyes,” observed Legolas. “I know he says he does it because he likes to dream, but I think he just likes to close his eyes and take sleep instead of reverie.”

“He is the only elf I know who does such a thing,” said Elodien.

\- - -

Across the way, on the western side, Glorfindel spoke to his lover as he rested. “Do not worry. Everything will turn out fine. I know you fear that he has rejected you, but he just needs time. Just a little time.”

Erestor shifted in Glorfindel’s arms, and the blond snuggled nearer to him. “Sleep now, love. Morning comes too soon.” He kissed Erestor on the nose, and upon the lips, and then each of the closed eyelids before nestling into the pillow himself to rest. As he drifted into reverie, he did so with a smile, thinking of how adorable it was that Erestor always slept with his eyes closed.


	6. Blessings

“How long have you been trying?” asked Erestor. “If you do not mind my asking, that is.”

The smile he was given was warm and inviting. “I do not mind at all.” Galadriel gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. It had been a long time since the two of them had been able to walk together like this, arm in arm, lazily navigating the secret gardens of Lothlorien. They had last seen one another in Doriath, for when Galadriel arrived- called Artanis then- the pain Erestor felt at their previous parting was too great for him to be near her, and so he fled to Gondolin. An age had passed in that time, and with the uncertainties of the war, they found themselves willing to rekindle the familiarity that they had once shared in a much lesser way. A fragile friendship, with many cracks which would break them apart on a number of occasions in the future.

Showing him to a bench that was growing over with flowers, the pair sat down together. “Since Celebrían was a little girl, I thought it would be a delight to have one of each- a daughter and a son.”

“What does Celeborn say to that?” There it was, one of those cracks. An open wound, flushed with salt. Erestor’s voice was neutral, but they both knew what he was really thinking.

Why him, when it ought to have been me?

“You know how he is. He pampers me; tolerates my every whim.” Another crack, another chip away at what little there was left of their relationship. Erestor glanced down at the ring upon her finger- not the golden band, but the one of brilliant silver with a crystal jewel to outshine the stars.

“Evidently so,” he said, but again his words were easily interpreted.

You were a fool to take it; he was a fool to let you. If it had been my choice, I would have stopped you from making such a mistake.

Despite the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’, past the dislike and occasional loathing, one thing did remain, perhaps stronger than ever. And that was Erestor’s love for her, no matter how badly she had hurt him and how badly she might in years to come. Regardless of her own selfishness and her attitude of superiority towards him at times, he loved her.

“It must be hard for you with the war going on,” said Erestor. Galadriel said nothing, but her eyes became sad and she nodded. Lothlórien was not very big, and the news of the loss of their King at such a desperate time was a tragedy the Galadhrim could not easily bear. Their army was so few when standing beside even the troops from Greenwood, but so many when compared to their own numbers. Galadriel had not been pleased with the idea of the war and had been even less enthusiastic to learn that a great number of the soldiers would be leaving to fight the war. Where other places, such as Imladris, had sent as many as they could manage without risking the defense of their realm, others, Lórien included, had sent more than they could afford to. With such weakened defenses, they would need to rely on the generosity of Greenwood in the case of an attack.

Galadriel had initially considered going to war herself. She was experienced with the sword and bow, and her strength was not to be overlooked. On the other hand, the morale on the home front needed to be kept stable if not boosted, and despite everything going on she had managed to do just that. This was most evident by the sight of children in Lothlórien. In no other realm, save for the far reaches of Lindon where she had visited many times recently, was the laughter of an elfling heard these days. Any young elf in Greenwood was nearing their majority by now, and an elf under fifty in Imladris was practically unheard of, save for those who had become orphans already and were now in the care of relatives in the fair valley. The ultimate sign of hope was a newborn, wrapped in a soft blanket while their mother held them close. It was little wonder that Galadriel would want one of her own.

“We are managing,” she finally said. Her look of sadness had not diminished, and Erestor took hold of her hands in his own. He held them together for a moment, raised them to his lips and chastely kissed them. “I pray. Daily,” she admitted. “I pray for an end to the war, I pray for the safety of our soldiers and our people here, and I pray for a son.”

“Do you ever thank Him for what He has already given you? For your home, for your family, for the generosity He has shown?” asked Erestor. Galadriel sighed half-heartedly and gave him a wry smile. “Come now, you know as well as I do that He exists. There can be no doubt from you in that.”

“Then why do we never see Him?”

This was, perhaps, the biggest crack in their relationship. The one that had always existed, even when they were so close, so close their souls were nearly bound- except that oil and water do not mix and will always fight to assert themselves and eventually stray apart, whether by their own will or not. He could believe without seeing; she needed to see to believe. It had caused them both so much frustration on so many levels, but none greater than their religious views.

“Then to whom do you pray?” he wondered, not about to fight with her on the main issue.

“To whoever will listen to me. The Valar, maybe, I hope,” she said. “I know at least that they exist, but I doubt many times that they listen to me anymore.”

“Alright, the Valar then, and yes, they do listen.” Erestor continued before she could dispute whether or not they did listen. “Will you allow me to pray with you? To speak to Him, through the Valar,” he said hurriedly as she opened her mouth to object. “Two voices are always louder than one,” he added, still holding her hands in his.

Galadriel gave him a shrug. “If you think it could work, it is worth a try.” 

Erestor nodded and closed his eyes. He paused to think of what to say as he swallowed and bowed his head. “Dear Lord Eru, we thank You for Your kindness, for Your grace, and for everything You have given us. We are thankful for our families, for our homes, for our comforts, and for the world around us that You created. Lord, we humbly ask for Your guidance, and for Your blessings. We ask You to keep safe our friends and families, to watch over them and protect them, and to bring those who are fighting home to us swiftly and safely. Dear Lord, we ask also that in this time of great uncertainty, that You bring hope for us into this world. We ask that You grant Galadriel a child, a son, strong and wise, to be a blessing upon her and upon this land. In Your name, we ask Thee.”

Galadriel opened her eyes to find Erestor looking at her, his gaze half-hopeful and half-sad. She smiled and said, “You should have become a minister instead of a librarian.”

“Who says I am not both?” Erestor released her hands and looked around the garden. “I shall continue to pray for you,” he said.

“Why do I get the feeling this is not the first time you have done so?” Her comment was void of sarcasm, for she was pleased to know he still cared for her. “If there is an Almighty, I hope He sees fit to bless you, Erestor.”

“He already has, many times over,” replied the dark elf. “And as there IS an Almighty, I hope He sees fit to show you in whatever way is needed that truly He does exist.”

\- - -

Barely any time had passed before Glorfindel felt Erestor thrash and moan in his sleep. He nervously kept watch at first, hoping the nightmare would pass, but when his response grew more fitful, Glorfindel nudged him gently awake. As Erestor’s eyes cleared and came into focus, he sought out Glorfindel, scrambling to be enfolded within his arms. “If only I had thought a little longer,” he babbled, “I should have asked He give THEM a child; I did not even think about what I was saying at the time, and now Haldir hates me for it.”

‘Oh, not this again,’ thought Glorfindel, but he attempted to calm with his words and by simply holding Erestor and dispersing light kisses upon his head and the back of his neck. “Erestor, sweetheart, he has not even had a day, and neither have you. Things will be so much better once you have had some sleep.”

“Why did I not say something?” Erestor’s normally low, smooth voice was broken with sobs as he buried his face against Glorfindel and let his emotions spill forth. “I should have told him. I should have said something when I realized what happened, Fin, I should have, I should have listened to you! You were right, you were so very right, even when I say you are wrong so often you are not, but damn my pride and my foolishness, I still should have said something.”

“Shh, it will be alright,” comforted Glorfindel. He had pulled Erestor up into his arms and was resting with his back against the headboard now. The blond began to move the hair that was sticking to Erestor’s face back so that he could wipe away his tears.

Erestor clung to him and cried, cursing his mistakes and damning himself over and over. As the tears began to subside, he sniffled and said, “I never got to hold him.”

“What?” 

“When he was a baby, I never had the chance to hold my son.” Tears welled up again. “I never saw him start to walk, I never taught him how to speak, he never really knew me when he was a child.” Teardrops ran down his cheeks, dripping silently from his chin. “I should have been there for him, but I never was. Fin, I was never there for him, how can he forgive me for that?”

“You need to forgive yourself first,” said Glorfindel in a stern, but loving tone. “You did what many would not have done. You put him first in your mind. There are consequences to every action; if you had said something, then other things would have happened. You can not know what the outcome might have been the other way. There is no way to relive the past; we must go forward to fix our mistakes.”

The sniffling subsided, but Erestor’s grip on Glorfindel was still strong. “You know, that sounds like something I would say.”

“It does, yes, yes, it does. No wonder, with you being all intellectual around me, some of it was bound to make its way between my ears eventually. In fact, I should really be upset with you,” continued Glorfindel when he felt his lover smile slightly at his jesting, “because the other day, someone wanted to show me a book, and I asked what sort of book it was, and they said poetry, and I thought to myself, how nice, and it would be shelved right after fiction but before history and I just wanted to throw myself against a WALL, because it was ALL YOUR FAULT that I was THINKING such a thing!” Glorfindel grinned and hugged Erestor, who was now fighting off a fit of laughter.

“It only means I have nearly trained you in all important aspects of life,” said Erestor as he calmed down. “Furthermore, this now means you shall have no excuse not to put books back in the correct spots at home.”

“Oh, I knew I was going to pay for that. But, the price is so little when I consider that it buys your happiness.” Glorfindel kissed Erestor on the top of his head and then maneuvered them back beneath the coverlet again. “We should rest, though it is nearly morning. I think even a little sleep will do you some good.”

They were settled back in bed for only a minute or two before Erestor reached up to tap Glorfindel on the shoulder. “Fin? Are you asleep yet?”

“Hmmhh? Mmm, what, Erestor?” He blinked his eyes to clear them. “Hmm?”

“Sorry, I thought you might still be awake. Never can tell with your eyes open,” Erestor mumbled. “Never mind me, just go back to your reverie.”

“No, tell me. You will only poke me again in an hour when you find yourself unable to sleep and wanting to ask me what you woke me for in the first place.”

Erestor blushed, knowing it to be true. “I just... I just wanted to know if you will stay by me tomorrow when I tell everyone. It would be- It would make me feel better with you at my side. I know that is a lot to ask, but-“

“I am always here for you. My place is by your side, my darling.” Glorfindel emphasized this by holding Erestor a little tighter. “Right here. By your side. Right where Eru intended for me to be.”

Erestor simply smiled. “You are more wonderful to me than you will ever realize.”

“Give me a little more credit than that, love,” replied Glorfindel with a wink.

The flame of the candle beside the bed flickered and fizzled into the puddle of wax that remained, and the lovers fell back asleep, each of them helping to chase the other’s demons away. The clock in the hall chimed six.


	7. On the Same Page

Never before had the mood in the dance hall of the King’s Kastle been more somber than it was now. Even with the blazing fires that were not often lit, the room was still dreary and cold. Before leaving for the night as Thranduil had instructed, those who worked in the bar had rearranged the room and brought a few of the sofas down from the inn that was above the dance hall.

Oropher had taken care of assembling everyone on the list that Erestor had made that morning. Although Glorfindel had his doubts that everyone would be assembled as Oropher had promised, there they were. All of them, just as he had said they would be.

Elrond, of course, with Celebrían, and the twins with their wives. Although it was a small feat to have Elrohir and Glorcheniel at the meeting, for they lived at the Kastle, Elladan and his wife spent their time wandering, either in Oromë's forest or on the isle named Tol Eressëa. Fidgeting on Elladan’s lap was his young son, sucking on his thumb when those he was not familiar with greeted him and told him what a cute little ellon he was.

Their younger sister, Vilya, was there, a daughter that Elrond and Celebrían had during the onset of the Fourth Age. Her husband, Melpomaen, was a bit fidgety himself- when Erestor spied him, his secretary from his days in Rivendell looked well away, a sign that Vilya, one of the few who knew the secret of his heritage, had told her husband as well. It was little doubt, then, that Lindir knew also. His wife was the youngest child of Celeborn and Galadriel, a tall, lithe elleth named Tallasindë. Tallasindë gave Erestor a reassuring smile and stood up, crossing the room to where he sat on a stool at the bar. She gave him a comforting hug and kissed his cheek before returning to her spot beside her minstrel husband.

The rest of Tallasindë's and Celebrían's siblings were there, as was expected. Orophin, since he lived in Valimar, received the news first. He, too, knew one of the secrets which Erestor harbored. In the row in front of him sat Valarda, leaning over her chair to speak with him, and with Rúmil and his wife, Nenniach. Next to Valarda sat Elodien, with Haldir between herself and Legolas. Somewhat unexpectedly, Erestor spied Ilmendin, Legolas’ elder brother. Though he had listed him, he did not think Thranduil’s older son would show up. Ilmendin’s wife was not present, nor did she have reason to be, but Thaladir was, as were Galion and his wife.

Galion’s wife had three sisters, all of whom were present, as were their parents. Their father, Círdan, had been known to Erestor for as long as he had been acquainted with Oropher. Erestor’s cottage in Valinor prior to the First Age had been next to the shipbuilder’s house and boatyard. The spot where their homes had once been was now the place where the residence of Beineilien, Ulmo’s waterkeeper and dolphin watcher, stood. She was married to Celebdreth, the only son of Rúmil and Nenniach, and both were present as well.

Only two were missing from those expected to arrive. Erestor watched the door nervously while Thranduil, who had played the part of host and therefore was tending the bar, poured him half a goblet of brandy and instructed him to have some. Glorfindel was slowly nursing a bowl of spiced wine, keeping his attention on Erestor.

\- - -

One name had been omitted from the list- Ecthelion. Erestor believed he had owed the ellon enough to personally speak to him instead of having him find out in an open forum type of situation. During the afternoon, while Oropher sent his messengers about to collect everyone, Erestor and Glorfindel had paid a visit to their dear friend in Valimar.

Ecthelion liked to think of himself as successfully unemployed. His argument was that he had worked, and very hard, for an entire age, and that his killing of not one or two but four balrogs, including their leader, was payment enough for him to slack when it came to responsibilities. His wife, a very sought after seamstress, viewed him as a ‘House Ada’, for he had stayed home with their daughter, Mae-Tithen, when she was born, and had not only raised her but also kept the house as well. It was not unusual, on warm summer days when laundry was best done along the shore of one of the rivers that wound through the central city, to find Ecthelion chatting away with a group of the local ladies while he scrubbed his trousers along with his wife’s blouses and mended a stocking or two.

Mae-Tithen had long since grown, and was an artist. She often accompanied her mother to the shop where the most vibrant gowns and intricately stitched tunics could be found. Young Mae spent her time sketching new designs for her mother to implement when embroidering the garments or drawing portraits for customers who came to the store. It was no surprise, then, to find Ecthelion at home, sweeping out the dust from the hallway onto the front porch.

Glorfindel had referred to this as the ‘practice’ session. It would be easier for Erestor to explain things first to someone he was extremely comfortable with, and who would not interrupt or storm out of the room unexpectedly. 

After Ecthelion finished sweeping the front stoop and the porch and was satisfied that he had rid the house of all possible dust bunnies, thereby making his home a safer place, the three of them settled in Ecthelion’s den for biscuits and tea.

There was an odd clash in the den; at one time, it had been decorated in a very well thought out manner. On one wall hung a tapestry that Gaileth had woven for her husband for their wedding day. It was a beautiful scene, depicting Gondolin in all her glory, for Gaileth had been one of the fortunate few to escape the land and knew of its beauty in the elder days.

On the opposite wall was the doorway, and many smaller stitched pieces hung here and there, but among them in places where the wall had not formerly been covered were the drawings of a child. A picture of ‘nana’, ‘ada’, and ‘me’, it read, with a pony named ‘Dalelio’ behind them, all with stick-like appendages and large, round heads. Another, now with arms and legs ballooned up, of ‘adar on a horse’, bearing a slight resemblance to Ecthelion riding a donkey, for the figure’s feet were touching the ground. These were sandwiched between a framed piece of cloth on which Lord Eru’s prayer was embroidered and a sketch in charcoal of Ecthelion and Gaileth in a garden somewhere and signed with Mae’s initials.

The other walls were similar: Childhood drawings were mixed together with refined examples of elvish art. Then, there was the fountain, a replica of the grand one which had been at the center of Gondolin’s courtyard. This had been a more recent addition, one which neither Glorfindel nor Erestor had yet seen. Unlike the heavy, unpolished stones which made up the structure of the fountain in Gondolin, this one was comprised of gleaming, white marble and was inlayed with various precious stones. The spout at the top from which the water spilled forth was plated in mithril, if not made up of it entirely.

“Wonderful little thing,” remarked Ecthelion of the four foot high object situated in the corner of the room. “I did not even suspect, not even when Gaileth began to measure and move things around the room as I sat right in this spot.”

“It does add something to the room,” agreed Glorfindel. “A bit of you, I might say.” All around, every item on the walls was something made either by Gaileth or Mae. “I like it.”

“As do I. Which is a good thing; I was told there is little chance of moving it now that it is set up and working,” Ecthelion replied with a smile. “So, Erestor, what news do you bring?” asked Ecthelion as he poured the tea.

“I have a son,” blurted out Erestor, and Glorfindel rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“You what?” Ecthelion continued to pour, overflowing the second cup he had been filling.

Reaching forward, Glorfindel tipped Ecthelion’s hands to tilt the spout up. “I really do not think that to be the best way to start, Erestor,” advised Glorfindel.

“What should I say first, then? You think I should start with ‘I am one of the Valar’ instead?” Erestor and Glorfindel both jumped abruptly in their seats as they heard a crash. The teapot had fallen from Ecthelion’s hand, clattering on the platter and drenching the biscuits. Ecthelion leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. “Too much too fast?” questioned Erestor, biting his lip. Ecthelion, wearing a stunned expression, nodded his head.

“Shall we try again, and perhaps a bit more subtle this time?” suggested Glorfindel. 

Erestor took a deep breath. “Ecthelion, there is something I think you should know.”

“Yes, I assumed as much,” answered the elf, trying to keep himself from fainting.

\- - -

Erestor decided it best for him to be at the center of their attention, to keep everyone focused on what he was telling them. All of the chairs or other furniture that was available faced the stage, where the minstrels would often perform or speeches and recitations would be done. Instead of standing on it, Erestor was sitting on the edge with his legs draped over the front. Glorfindel was beside him, his legs crossed, and each of them sat on a large pillow, taken from one of the rooms as the sofas had been. 

They had continued to wait, but it was Thranduil who had convinced him to go ahead even though the last two elves had yet to show up. Erestor cleared his throat, causing all conversation to cease. “My intention is to tell all of you everything in as little time as possible and with few interruptions. I know that some of you already know some of what I am going to say, and others of you know none of it. A few of you already know it all.”

It would normally have been the perfect time for Glorfindel to crack a joke, but instead, he shifted his weight so that he was leaning in Erestor’s direction slightly, a small show of support to him.

“If you will allow me, I would like to start at the beginning. Long ago, here in Valinor-“ Erestor paused as the front doors opened and he sucked in his breath uneasily. Glorfindel sidled up to him and placed his hand on the small of Erestor’s back. This gesture was enough to spur Erestor on. “When I was living in Valinor prior to the First Age, I met a young elleth whom I sincerely thought I would one day marry. We courted, flirted with the idea of married life, but it was not to be. When Artanis-“ He came to a full stop again as Celeborn and Galadriel entered the hall and found their way to a pair of seats near the back of the ‘audience’. “Between the time that Galadriel and I parted,” began Erestor again, “and the time when I sailed over the sea to the East, I was informed of something quite shocking. It was revealed to me that my father was Oromë. I am half eldar, and half ainur.”

There was a bit of a buzz in the room. Some even looked suspiciously at others, who seemed overly calmed about the news, their glances accusing them of knowing and saying nothing. “As the son of a Vala, I have some most unusual qualities. I am even named as one of them within their count, or more accurately one of the ‘lesser’ Vala, a child of the Valar. I have a sister; she is full ainur, her name is Nieliqui and perhaps some day I might introduce her to all of you, but I did not think that appropriate tonight, for there is another secret which I have been keeping.”

Noticing the looks being exchanged, Glorfindel raised his free arm in the air. “I knew he was Periainu since the First Age. I promised him I would not speak of it, except to others who knew. Some of you knew of this, some of you did not. I was the only one he told willingly; the rest of you found out because you stumbled somehow upon his secret and if you did not know would not know not to say anything to anyone else. Do not be upset at those who have known if you did not; his belief was that he saved you the burden of knowing.”

“That makes perfect sense to me,” spoke Rúmil. “So, who knew? Surely, I did not, but I take no offense in not knowing.” He turned to his wife, who sat with a look of utter disbelief on her face. “Apparently, you were not in the trusted circle either,” he joked.

Orophin’s long arm rose into the air, and he pointed a finger down at himself. “Fourth Age, right here. I kept spreading all of those ridiculous rumors about him- then I came up with one that was so ridiculous, it was true.”

“My word, you can keep a secret,” said his wife, in awe more of the fact that Orophin had not told her, and less of the fact that Erestor was one of the blessed Ainur.

“We knew, Villy and I,” said Tallasindë of herself and Vilya. “Oh, and do not be sore with us, Uncle Ressi, we simply had to let Lindi and Mel know, too. Only because we were being called here for a most urgent matter, and honestly, this is Valinor. Is there anything urgent which ever happens here? Not really,” she continued, looking around to the others in the room as if to gain verification from them on the matter. “That is why we knew, we just knew, if it was urgent, it had to do with you.”

“I knew, as did my wife, and Thaladir as well. My mother and father were also informed.” Thranduil went on to explain. “In Doriath, we confronted him. We were mistaken on our convictions; we thought he was Morgoth,” he said with a slightly embarrassed smile.

There was laughter in the room, especially from his sons, but an end was put to it when Galadriel spoke and said, “You know, I never before noticed, but he DOES look a sight like Melkor.”

Erestor uneasily looked to the floor. “I knew,” said a timid voice near the back. It was Aerlinniel, whose hand retreated into her lap again. “It was an accident,” she told everyone as her three older sisters stared at her with gaping mouths. “But once I knew, I vowed not to tell a soul, not a single soul. I did not mind. I thought it was, well, something a bit romantic, keeping a secret like that.”

“I wonder why I did not know,” mused Círdan, rather curious and not at all offended. Erestor smiled at him from his perch.

“I have far too much respect for you to have fraught such a weight upon you,” answered Erestor, and this seemed well enough for Círdan. “The second part of my tale is not so easy to explain, but you will understand it better knowing what I have told you.”

He could not help but look at Haldir. There was never so much defiance in his eyes, so angry a look directed toward Erestor before. Regardless, Erestor folded his hands in his lap and began to speak. “I always wanted children. I adore them, in fact. I took it very personally when I knew of a couple trying to have a child without success, Elven or otherwise. Near the end of the Second Age, during the great battle in Mordor, we lost many of our noble kin. I was often messenger, the one to travel from the battle to the homelands of our fallen heroes to inform them personally of the deaths.”

“When I came to Lothlórien to tell those who lived there that Amdir King was dead and his son had taken his place, I found someone mourning not the loss of a friend or family member, but the lack of a son. I prayed with her, with all my heart. I wanted nothing more in those moments than to have her wish fulfilled.” There was shakiness to his voice, but he forged ahead. “I did not realize it at the time, but part of being who I am, of being one of the Ainur, is the awesome ability to create with our words and our songs when Eru wills it. Her wish was granted. One year later, she found a child, a son, beneath the tree we sat beside the night I was there. My intention was that Eru would grant her and her husband a child, but it did not work exactly as I had planned.” 

A wave of emotion hit him, and caused Erestor to cover his face with his hand as Glorfindel held him supportively. The first one to react was Orophin, who did so by clamping both of his hands over his mouth with eyes open wide. He looked at Haldir, who was flushed in anger and clenching his teeth, then to Erestor who wept silently into his hand. He said something, quite loud, but also muffled, into his hands, and then uncovered his mouth and said, “Oh. My. Eru.” Haldir flashed him a dark look. “Oh, then it must be true... wait. What about Rúmil and I?”

Haldir turned around, and with a snarl, said, “You and Rúmil are fine. Neither of you is a bastard, like me.” Bolting out of his chair, Haldir shoved his way past Legolas to get to the aisle, and then practically stomped his way out of the room, slamming shut the wooden door of the entrance. Elodien excused herself to follow after him, motioning that Legolas should stay and listen to whatever else was said.

At the back of the room, a tall silver-haired figure stood. “Erestor.” The dark elf looked up, his eyes meeting concerned blue ones. “I want no confusion regarding this matter. Are you saying that Haldir is your son?”

“Celeborn, I swear to you, this was never my intention.” Erestor coughed to clear his throat and said, “I thought he would be your child; it was all I ever aimed to do. I did not expect this.”

“You tricked me,” accused Galadriel, standing up and pointing at Erestor. “You probably knew all along what would happen!”

“No, no, I would never-“ The noise in the room rose so that Erestor could not be heard over it, though it mattered little. Galadriel was following the path Haldir had taken, escaping from the hall. Erestor slumped his shoulders and began to wish that he were anywhere but here.

Sound of something hard being pounded on the counter of the bar settled everyone down again. “Attention! Thank you,” said Thranduil as soon as the room quieted. He set aside the candleholder he had knocked against the wood to quiet everyone down. “This has been a very emotional evening for many of us, and will continue to be. I believe we could all use some time to ourselves, perhaps something to eat and a place to rest, and in the morning those of us who wish to discuss things further can do so. Erestor, is there anything you wished to add?”

“Just that... I am sorry,” he said, looking up again to where Celeborn had been, but the silver elf was gone. Looking drained and miserable, Erestor shook his head and rested his head on Glorfindel’s shoulder.

“Now that everyone is on the same page,” said Thranduil, “I offer the Kastle to all of you for the duration of the week. Longer if need be, but at week’s end, guests will begin to arrive for the winter. 

“Some of us are already here,” announced Beineilien, for it was customary for her and her husband to spend the colder days here instead of in the valley where they could easily be snowed in and unable to leave for months. “It seemed a little silly to come if we did not intend now to stay.”

“Val, what do you think about winter here at the Kastle?” asked Orophin. He already obviously wanted to follow after his brother, but stayed until his wife acquiesced to his request. “Excellent. Pick out a good room for us. I shall return.” Orophin, too, left the hall. Many soon followed, either to find their rooms or to speak privately with one or more of the others.

Eventually, the only ones left were Erestor, Glorfindel, and Thranduil. “I think it went fairly well, all things considered,” said Thranduil. “And Erestor?” The dark elf looked over. “I think you honestly did the right thing, telling everyone.” Erestor nodded, but still looked unsure.

“Excuse me, boss?” Glorcheniel strolled back into the room. “I just wanted to ask, what did you plan to do about the whole end of autumn celebration this year? Did you still want that to go on or should we cancel it?”

“Damn, it is in four days...” Thranduil sipped from his winebowl. “I suppose we shall carry on as always. It is tradition.”

“I do not want to be the cause to break with the custom of having the festivities here,” spoke Erestor from the stage.

Thranduil regarded Erestor for a long time, as if he were about to change his mind, but then shook his head. “We shall have the celebration here. Preparations have already been made. In four days time, the festivities shall commence.”


	8. Follow Me

“Is this your first time?”

“My... my what?” Artanis spun around to see who was speaking to her, the gauzy fabric of the dress she had borrowed from Aredhel moving with her, nearly sweeping against the floor as it settled back again. It was the tall, handsome elf whom she had spoken with the day before; the one who had the farm in the valley. He smiled warmly, his elbow leaning against a pillar, hand resting upon his cheek. The other hand held a glass of brightly colored liquid that fizzed and snapped. 

“Your first Lairë Namárië- officially, that is,” he said. “Surely you have celebrated with your family before.”

“Oh!” Blushing and turning away in hopes he would not see, Artanis looked back when her flushed face cooled. She was giddy with delight to see the elda still standing as he had been, gazing upon her, waiting for her answer with an amused smile. “Yes, this is my first away from home. And on my own!” She scolded herself mentally for sounding so childish. “That is, I have not yet had the time to see one for myself,” she said hurriedly, wishing she could find something wittier or more intellectual to say. “This one seems good,” she finished, turning to look at the couples dancing again. She knew her face was bright red again, and felt like crying for making such a fool of herself in front of him.

When she finally gathered the courage to look behind her, the elf was gone. With a sigh, she began to indolently fiddle with the trim around the waist of her dress. Yet another couple brushed past her on their way to the dance floor, and feeling so very young and unwanted, Artanis shifted closer to the wall. Aredhel had convinced her to come down tonight for the celebration, but the longer she stood against the wall without a partner, the more she wished she had not come. Her cousin was, as many of the ladies were, the most perfect elleth. Everything about her was dainty and lithe, and her face was fair and pale. While it was true that Artanis was fair, she stuck out- or rather, up. She was already a little more than an inch over six feet, and was disappointed to learn that she would likely still continue to grow.

“Funny how the snow came this year before Winter truly did.”

With a start, Artanis looked around, finding the dark elf only a few feet away. “It happens that way sometimes,” she answered, both delighted and terrified that he was near her again.

Erestor held out a glass of pale pink liquid to her. “I thought you might be thirsty,” he said.

Politely, Artanis took the drink from him and thanked him for it. She looked into the glass apprehensively, for her brothers had warned her that sometimes sly ellyn would prey upon young, unknowing ellith by heavily intoxicating them. It was rare, very rare, but not entirely unheard of. However, she also knew she could not be so rude as to stand with the glass untouched, and so she brought it to her lips and sipped a tiny bit. A smile spread across her lips when the sweet, lemony taste hit her tongue.

“Thank you,” she said again, much more sincerely this time. She took note of the fact he had exchanged his drink for a glass of lemonade as well.

“Excuse me?” The voice of a third party kept either from saying anything else to each other. A young ellon, strong and able by his size, stepped between the pair and looked straight into Artanis’ eyes. “May I?”

“Ah... ahm... may you what?” she questioned in confusion.

With a charming smile, he said, “May I have this dance?” Extending his arm to her, it appeared he was not about to take no for an answer.

“Well, I would love to, but...” Looking down at her drink, she was surprised when it disappeared from her hand. Beside her once again, Erestor was holding both glasses.

“I will just put this over on the counter, right over there for you,” said the dark elf, nodding in the direction of the bar. Before she could protest, thank him, or otherwise say anything else, she found herself being swept out onto the floor. She kept her eyes on the ellon she was dancing with, making polite conversation, but the entire song she spent trying to look past him to see where Erestor had gone to.

She had been exchanged at least a dozen times, from others who had cut in to pairs that had swapped with whomever she was dancing with at the time, and her mind was just beginning to stop wandering when she heard the now familiar low voice speak. “Pardon, young sir, I was hoping I might have a chance to dance with the lady.”

The ellon she was currently dancing with slowed them to a stop and bowed to her while she curtseyed to him. As he walked away, Artanis turned to face Erestor and prepared to curtsey to him, but found herself being pulled close and waltzed into the midst of the other dancers.

Unlike the other partners she had had that evening, Erestor was not so timid or so awkward. Hundreds of years of practice and practical use made him light on his feet and graceful in his step. Artanis herself knew how to dance, as any proper lady should, but never had she appeared so skilled before. “Just follow my lead,” he whispered to her, the first words they had exchanged since he had cut in, after she accidentally stepped on his toes.

“Sorry,” she squeaked when she misstepped a second time. Frustrated on the third time, she stood still completely, and let out a breath of relief as the song thankfully ended. Before the next one began, she found herself being taken over to a secluded area of the hall. A slower song was played, but they did not join in immediately.

“Relax,” he instructed. He rearranged her hands so that instead of using the modern placement, she was holding the side of her dress out with one hand and had her other on his shoulder. “You have got to stop leading.”

“I am not,” she protested.

“Yes, you are,” he laughed. “Concentrate less on where our feet are going on and more on looking like a graceful princess. Let me keep track of our feet.”

Looking quite insulted, Artanis dropped the dress from her hand and turned to leave. She was yanked back by one gloved arm and pulled back into Erestor’s arms. “Look around. What do you see?”

“Couples dancing,” she answered without actually looking.

Erestor turned her around in his arms, his hands resting on her hips. “What do you see?” he asked again.

Artanis’ heart fluttered and leaped about as she felt the contact he was making. “Just... dancing.”

“What are the ladies doing? Tell me, are any of them staring at their feet? Are they the ones choosing the path?”

“No,” she finally said.

“No. They are not.” Erestor spun her back around again. “Hand on my shoulder,” he instructed as he positioned her other one off to her side and lifted a bit of her dress up to her. “All night, you have been leading. Perhaps your other partners had no problem with this, but I do. Let me do my job; you do yours.”

Again they started to dance, and again- she stepped on his foot as she tried to get them to move into the crowd. Bringing them to a full stop, Erestor said, “Close your eyes.”

“How will I know where we are going?” she questioned in alarm.

“You are not supposed to. I will take you there. Close your eyes.”

As soon as she did so, she felt Erestor move again. With no way of seeing where the other dancers were and how close she and Erestor were to the walls, she was forced to feel the music and the steps and the way he guided her to know where to go. “I think you can open your eyes now, but do not look down.”

He had danced her into the center of the hall, where others were admiring the elegance the pair exhibited. Artanis kept her eyes focused on Erestor, lest she accidentally let her gaze drop to the floor. “You dance very well,” she commended as they paused to applaud the minstrels at the end of the song.

“As do you. Shall we continue?” he asked, but without giving her the chance to refute him, he had already taken hold of her waist with one hand, and her hand with his other, switching from the classic style of dance to one slightly closer and a little more intimate. “Did you plan to retire early?”

“Actually, yes, that was my intention,” she replied.

“Allow me to escort you to your room, then,” he offered. He removed his hand from her hip and began to lead her away from the center of the room. With a little gasp of disapproval, Artanis stepped back into his path, placing her hand on his shoulder. “After this dance then?” he asked, flowing right back into the dance again.

“When I say it is time, I will let you see me to my room,” she corrected him. He nodded and continued to weave them around the other couples. 

It was during the next song that she came to the realization that they were not moving from one side of the room to the other as most of the others were, but instead remained fairly close to the middle of the hall. “May I ask why?” questioned the young elleth after revealing her discovery to him.

“See all of those wild young ellyn stalking about on the edges of the room?” Erestor turned them so that she could observe a particularly obvious bunch who were sharing a bottle of wine and laughing to one another as they leered at the young ladies who danced with others close to where they were standing. “They have been drinking, and they are excited to be here. For many of them, like you, this is their first time at a party such as this without supervision. If you really want to have one of them cut in and dance with you-“

“No,” she answered quickly, spying Ecthelion among those who were trying to spy whom they would next dance with. Nearby, she saw Thranduil as well, but he was not of age yet and had it not been for the fact that his father was the proprietor of the Kings’ Kastle, there would have been little chance he would have been here. As it was, the very young elf, still an elfling by some standards, was sitting on a stool and leaning on the table he sat at, half into his bowl of wine. She did not know many of the others, but simply by looking at them, she knew her answer. “I suppose, if they are all young and wild-“

“The alternative of dancing with a calm, old Elda is a slightly more desirable way to spend the evening,” finished Erestor for her. Artanis blushed, but he chuckled. “Go on, I know what you are thinking, ‘Tis like dancing with your father to dance with me.”

“Actually, not at all,” she said in defense, but not sure what else to say without again sounding her age, she said nothing at all.

Taking another turn around the room, Erestor leaned in a little closer and said, “Right. More like... dancing with one of your brothers, then? Or am I so old, it is more like being with your grandsire?”

“No! Not at all!” Her quiet scolding made Erestor smirk and straighten his neck back up again. Finding she was no longer needing to think of what they were doing with their feet, she boldly removed her hand from his shoulder and moved it to his back as she saw many of the couples who looked more relaxed with one another doing. Her head came to rest on his shoulder.

With a look of surprise, Erestor glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to them, but found the room too dark and the hour too late for most to notice what was happening with anyone else. “Artanis,” he whispered into her ear.

She felt light and giddy, hearing him say her name in his thick, deep voice. “Erestor,” she answered, half in a daze.

Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Ar-tanis,” he said, biting his lip for a moment and trying to keep some distance between them, “only couples who are bound dance in this way.”

Opening her eyes wide, not only because of his words, but because of something that her thigh brushed against, a lump of some sort that was not there earlier. Practically leaping back, Artanis broke her promise not to look down as she searched for what exactly she had bumped into.

Erestor tilted her chin back up, took hold of her hand with one of his and her waist in his other. “Perhaps you wish to retire soon?” His steps were somewhat stilted for a bit as he took them back into the midst of the other dancers.

Artanis said nothing, for they somehow ended up in very close quarters with a number of the other couples and did not want anyone else to hear their conversation, for they could hear what others around them were saying.

“I simply love the parties Oropher throws,” said an elleth to her husband- at least, from the way they were dancing, Artanis assumed they were bound. “What do you think of the musicians?”

The ellon nodded and mumbled something inaudible as Erestor and Artanis danced away from them and closer to another pair.

“... but no matter what she says, I still think dancing is a lot like making love. At least, you can find out a lot about the other party by dancing with them. Does the lady try to lead? Probably aggressive in nature. Does he not give in to it? Likely a strong soul. Simple deduction and...”

“Did you look at how much wine that child is drinking?” said another elleth to her husband. Artanis frowned now that she was hearing about the alleged ‘drinking problem’ that this lady thought the son of the owner had, wishing she could hear more of what the last couple was discussing. As Artanis strained to hear the previous conversation, her eye caught that of the young ellon she had first danced with that evening, for to dance out of the crowd Eretor had to bring them dangerously close to the edge of the room.

When Artanis let out a little squeak as the elf began to approach, his eyes on her, Erestor pretended not to have noticed, but danced them out of the way, hurrying their escape as the ellon came nearer. “Do you want to dance with him?” questioned Erestor, though to him the answer was obvious even before Artanis shook her head. “Alright. Duck down.”

She could not question him as he suddenly crouched down behind the couple they danced past, pulling her with him. They kept themselves hunched over as Erestor led Artanis swiftly though the other dancers, into the back corner beneath a balcony, and around a break in the curtain of fabric that hung down from the upper level.

The decorative curtain masked the sounds of the minstrels and created a wide corridor, above which was the balcony which encircled the hall, creating a low ceiling in the darkened area they were now in. “Shall we?” asked Erestor after Artanis’ initial awe of the beautiful, hidden place he had stolen her away to wore off. She nodded, and they once again found themselves in each other’s arms.


End file.
